Classic Poem

But I was West
And feared the skies
That bore the diurnal
Passionful ties;
With harmonies the trail
Of space, that swung
The River Rhine, its
Beauties trace.

My thought was Rome
And Grecian gilt
'Pon Athens' shade,
Its glittering hilt;
The North, the South
Hath but its twain
From which its shawl
Breaks deep within.

We are strange apart,
But still can feel the present heart.