Explore "Love Among the Ruins" by Robert Browning on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Where the quiet-colored end of evening smiles / Miles and miles / On the solitary pastures where our sheep / Half-asleep / Tinkle homeward through the twilight, stray or stop / As they crop -- / Was the site once of a city great and gay, / (So they say) / Of our country's very capital, its prince / Ages since / Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far / Peace or war.
Now, -- the country does not even boast a tree, / As you see, / To distinguish slopes of verdure, certain rills / From the hills / Intersect and give a name to, (else they run / Into one,) / Where the domed and daring palace shot its spires / Up like fires / O'er the hundred-gated circuit of a wall / Bounding all, / Made of marble, men might march on nor be pressed, / Twelve abreast.