As Icarus drowns in the deep-green, wine-dark sea,
before the white, round fisher happily ensconced
and th’ extr’ordinary sailing ship embarking,
a shepherd, standing near his flock and loyal dog,
is gazing in the opposite direction tow’rd
the sky. Above him, looking down, a plowman slogs
along; he’s turning up the ground behind a horse.
The landscape’s touched with foliage, shadows, trees;
and all around one sees, birds, buildings, and, of course,
the distant sun, that sits at the horizon, gleams
o’er all, rocks, people, ships upon the watery
diagonal the vista shows legs leave with ease.
 

 

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