Explore "Sonnet on Approaching Italy" by Oscar Wilde on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I reached the Alps: the soul within me burned, / Italia, my Italia, at thy name:
And when from out the mountain's heart I came / And saw the land for which my life had yearned, / I laughed as one who some great prize had earned:
And musing on the marvel of thy fame / I watched the day, till marked with wounds of flame / The turquoise sky to burnished gold was turned.
The pine-trees waved as waves a woman's hair, / And in the orchards every twining spray / Was breaking into flakes of blossoming foam:
But when I knew that far away at Rome / In evil bonds a second Peter lay, / I wept to see the land so very fair.
Turin.