Tuscany Cypress Painting

A year ago I breathed the Italian air, - And yet, methinks this northern Spring is fair,- These fields made golden with the flower of March, The throstle singing on the feathered larch, The cawing rooks, the wood-doves fluttering by, The little clouds that race across the sky; And fair the violet's gentle drooping head, The primrose, pale for love uncomforted, The rose that burgeons on the climbing briar, The crocus-bed, (that seems a moon of fire Round-girdled with a purple marriage-ring); And all the flowers of our English Spring, Fond snowdrops, and the bright-starred daffodil. Up starts the lark beside the murmuring mill, And breaks the gossamer-threads of early dew; And down the river, like a flame of blue, Keen as an arrow flies the water-king, While the brown linnets in the greenwood sing. A year ago! - it seems a little time Since last I saw that lordly southern clime, Where flower and fruit to purple radiance blow, And like bright lamps the fabled apples glow. Full Spring it was - and by rich flowering vines, Dark olive-groves and noble forest-pines, I rode at will; the moist glad air was sweet, The white road rang beneath my horse's feet, And musing on Ravenna's ancient name, I watched the day till, marked with wounds of flame, The turquoise sky to burnished gold was turned. O how my heart with boyish passion burned, When far away across the sedge and mere I saw that Holy City rising clear, Crowned with her crown of towers! - On and on I galloped, racing with the setting sun, And ere the crimson after-glow was passed, I stood within Ravenna's walls at last!

Painting:Acrylic on Canvas

Original:One-of-a-kind Artwork

Size:12 W x 16 H x 0.5 D in

Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.