English Poem. ST. MARK'S, VENICE. BY G. R. ASKWITH. "The old order changeth, yielding place to new." TENNYSON. "The beauty which it possesses is unfelt, the language it uses is forgotten; and in the midst of the city to whose service it has so long been consecrated, and still filled by crowds of the descendants of those to whom it owes its magnificence, it stands, in reality, more desolate than the ruins through which the sheep-walk passes unbroken in our English Valleys." RUSKIN. AE ST. MARK'S, VENICE. A MASS of fluted shafts and marble domes, O'er which the sunlight softly searching roams, Its long low shape, with wondrous beauty crowned, All baser buildings near to venture round St. Mark's most sacred shrine, and its enchanted ground. Great vaulted porches, hollowed out below appear In five large circles-on whose roof Sculpture fantastic in its wondrous shapes And as the crown of all, an Angel band Of snowflaked serpentine, pure marble traced And over all, amid the capitals, Where rooted knots of herbage intertwine |