"Oh softly blew the morning breeze" ["Chiavenna"] [poem]
oh softly blew a the mo
r
u
n
i
t
ng breeze b
Ruskin's line number
810

Through Chiavennas myrtle trees,
And oer the green hills viny spread
That rose in many a rounded head
Beneath the Alpine rocks of red
System generated line number
5

And the fresh snow had fallʼn that night
Ruskin's line number
815

And sprinkled with its mantle white
The mountain amphitheatre
That rose around us far and near
Though in such far confusion hurled
System generated line number
10

They looked to rule oer all the world
Ruskin's line number
820

And the white clouds seemed to immerse,
Another ruinʼd universe. 1