Where a Roman Villa Stood, Above Freiburg

By Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

On alien ground, breathing an alien air,

A Roman stood, far from his ancient home,

And gazing, murmured,

"Ah, the hills are fair,
But not the hills of Rome!"

Descendant of a race to Romans-kin,

Where the old son of Empire stood, I stand.

The self-same rocks fold the same valley in,

Untouched of human hand.

Over another shines the self-same star,

Another heart with nameless longing fills,

Crying aloud, "How beautiful they are,

But not our English hills!"