Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

O patria mia!

One drawing held her; it was of
An indistinct but Eastern view
And had no special charm: her hand
Strayed to the glass as if she knew
The contours of that barren land
And could not stare at them enough:

I saw her beauty then, the love
Made steady in her exiled eyes:
Those lines were faint as memory,
Effaced as elusive sighs
That scarcely broke her reverie;
I watched, withheld, and could not move.