Sonnet Xxxiv. Suggested By The Opening Of The Oedipus Coloneus Of Sophocles. Poem by Henry Alford

Colonos, can it be that thou hast still
Thy laurel and thine olive and thy vine?
Do thy close--feathered nightingales yet trill
Their warbles of thick--sobbing song divine?
Does the gold sheen of the crocus o'er thee shine
And dew--fed clusters of the daffodil,
And round thy flowery knots, Cephisus twine,
Aye oozing up with many a bubbling rill?
Oh, might I stand beside thy leafy knoll,
In sight of the far--off city towers, and see
The faithful--hearted pure Antigone
Toward the dread precinct leading sad and slow
That awful temple of a kingly soul,
Lifted to heaven by unexampled woe.