John Burgon

Petra John William Burgon

not seem to work the creative hand of man,
through labor wrought as wavering fancy planned;
But the rock as if by magic grown,
eternal, silent, beautiful, alone!
Not virgin white like old Doric temple,
where erst Athena's divine rites;
No saint-gray, like many a shrine minister
which crowns the hill and consecrates the plain;
But pink-red, as if the blush of dawn,
the first saw them have not yet withdrawn;
The hues of youth upon a brow of woe,
including the man regarded as two thousand years old,
Match me such marvel save in Eastern climates,
a city half as old as pink-red world.

it's about a rose-red city from a rock. A gardena I'm reading this quickly. This is a sonnet and that kind of poem is built on metaphors: the first 3 verses are metaphors for something. An allusion to the sanctuary of Athena. Also referred to Christ crowns the hill, dedicated to the plain.

http://www.bookstove.com/Poetry/How-to-R ...