Two Backgrounds

by Edith Wharton

　　HERE by the ample river's argent sweep,

　　Bosomed in tilth and vintage to her walls,

　　A tower-crowned Cybele in armoured sleep

　　The city lies, fat plenty in her halls,

　　With calm parochial spires that hold in fee

　　The friendly gables clustered at their base,

　　And, equipoised o'er tower and market-place,

　　The Gothic minister's winged immensity;

　　And in that narrow burgh, with equal mood,

　　Two placid hearts, to all life's good resigned,

　　Might, from the altar to the lych-gate, find

　　Long years of peace and dreamless plenitude.

　　II. MONA LISA

　　Yon strange blue city crowns a scarped steep

　　No mortal foot hath bloodlessly essayed:

　　Dreams and illusions beacon from its keep.

　　But at the gate an Angel bares his blade;

　　And tales are told of those who thought to gain

　　At dawn its ramparts; but when evening fell

　　Far off they saw each fading pinnacle

　　Lit with wild lightnings from the heaven of pain;

　　Yet there two souls, whom life's perversities

　　Had mocked with want in plenty, tears in mirth,

　　Might meet in dreams, ungarmented of earth,

　　And drain Joy's awful chalice to the lees.