Where a Roman Villa Stood, Above Freiburg

On alien ground, breathing an alien air,
A Roman stood, far from his ancient home,
And gazing, murmured, "Ah, the hills are fair,
But not the hills of Rome!"

Descendant of a race to Romans kin,
Where the old son of Empire stood, I stand.
The self-same rocks fold the same valley in.
Untouched of human hand.

Over another shines the self-same star.
Another heart with nameless longing fills,
Crying aloud, "How beautiful they are,
But not our English hills!"