<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Viva Italia!</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Italia, in thy bleeding heart<br> I thought e'en hope was dead;<br> That from thy scarred and prostrate form<br> The spark of life had fled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I thought, as memory's sunset glow<br> Its radiance o'er thee cast,<br> That all thy glory and thy fame<br> Were buried in the past.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Twice Mistress of the world, I thought<br> Thy star had set in gloom;<br> That all thy shrines and monuments<br> Were but thy spirit's tomb---</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The mausoleum of the world,<br> Where Art her spoils might keep;<br> Where pilgrims from all shrines might come,<br> To wonder and to weep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But from thy deathlike slumber now,<br> In joy I see thee wake<br> And over thy long shrouded sky<br> Behold the morning break.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Along the Alps and Apennines<br> Runs an electric thrill;<br> A golden splendor lights once more<br> Each storied vale and hill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And hopes, bright as thy sunny skies,<br> Are o'er thy future cast;<br> The future that upon thee beams,<br> As glorious as thy past.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Lynch+Botta">Anne Lynch Botta</a> from <i>Poems</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115353" data-title="Viva Italia! de Anne Lynch Botta" data-description="Italia, in thy bleeding heart/ I thought e'en hope was dead;/ That from thy scarred and prostrate form/ The spark of life had fled./ I thought, as memory's sunset glow/ Its radiance o'er thee cast,/ That all thy glory and thy fame/ Were bur..."></div> </div> </div>

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