I would tell you of the beauty
of this place, if I could.
No words will ever show it
as they should.
How paint the rolling Tuscan
hills as they appear
to eyes that gaze upon them
through a tear
of joy to just be here?
From Poci, see the view
of ancient that is ever new;
of years long passed away.
Not lost, but new again with every day
that dawns here in this place
which always has a new and wondrous face.
More than the garb of nature do we see;
more than the fruit of vine and tree;
more than what springs from this rich land;
more than the work of thought and hand;
it is a thing wherein we find
a grand ideal we bring to mind.