Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine,
Babbles the bee in a solid ear:
Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadence,
Ah, what sagacity perished here!
Grand go the years in the crescent above them;
Worlds scoop their arcs, and firmaments row,
Diadems drop and Doges surrender,
Soundless as dots on a disk of snow.
Photo Rob Perry