Read "Avignon" by Maria Lowell online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
The July day grew to a close, the fret of travel passed, / The cool and moonlit court-yard of the inn was gained at last, / Where oleanders greeted us between their stately ranks, / As pink and proud as if they grew on native Indian banks:
Seen from our chamber-window's ledge, they looked more strangely fair, / Like blossomed baskets, lightly poised upon the summer air.