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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473294" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet On Approaching Italy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473294" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I REACHED the Alps: the soul within me burned<br> Italia, my Italia, at thy name:<br> And when from out the mountain's heart I came<br> And saw the land for which my life had yearned,<br> I laughed as one who some great prize had earned:<br> And musing on the story of thy fame<br> I watched the day, till marked with wounds of flame<br> The turquoise sky to burnished gold was turned,<br> The pine-trees waved as waves a woman's hair,<br> And in the orchards every twining spray<br> Was breaking into flakes of blossoming foam:<br> But when I knew that far away at Rome<br> In evil bonds a second Peter lay,<br> I wept to see the land so very fair.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Oscar+Wilde">Oscar Wilde</a></strong></div>

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