The Year after Travelling

See how last year is coming back again!
Dost thou not feel bright cities work in thee,
At which we touched upon the midland sea,
And fair cathedrals towering on the plain?
Through all the gathered mould of hope and fear,
The heap of wintry things which we have cast
Upon our memories, relics of the past
Work up in little earthquakes from last year.
And is it not a very pleasant trouble
To feel this year our calendar is double?
My thoughts have been bewildered all the day,
As though I walked on air, not on the ground,
And, from the date, I have this evening found
It was a misty sight of Genoa.