"Remember how we came at last To Como; shower and storm and blast Had blown the lake beyond his limit, And all was flooded; and how we pastFrom Como, when the light was gray, And in my head, for half the day, The rich Virgilian rustic measure Of Lari Maxume, all the way,Like ballad-burthen music, kept, As on The Lariano crept To that fair port below the castle Of Queen Theodolind, where we slept;Or hardly slept, but watch’d awake A cypress in the moonlight shake, The moonlight touching o’er a terrace One tall Agavè above the lake."
Lake Como, also known as Lario, is a lake of glacial origin in Lombardy, Italy. It has an area of 146 km2 (56 sq mi), making it the third-largest lake in Italy, after Lake Garda and Lake Maggiore. At over 400 metres (1,300 ft) deep, it is one of the deepest lakes in Europe. Its characteristic "Y" shape resulted from the movement of the ancient Adda glacier, which was diverted by the mountainous te
"And, (Lake) Como! thou, a treasure whom the earth / Keeps to herself, confined as in a depth / Of Abyssinian privacy. I spake / Of thee, thy chestnut woods, and garden plots / Of Indian-corn tended by dark-eyed maids; / Thy lofty steeps, and pathways roofed with vines, / Winding from house to house, from town to town, / Sole link that binds them to each other ; walks, / League after league, and cloistral avenues, / Where silence dwells if music be not there."
Lake Como"No sound of wheels or hoof-beat breaks / The silence of the summer day, / As by the loveliest of all lakes / I while the idle hours away."
Lake Como"Everything is noble and delicate (on Lake Como), everything speaks of love, nothing recalls the ugliness of civilization."
Lake Como"One is still close to the mountains (of Lake Como) and yet the desire already perceives the plain and a vast silent fertility."
Lake Como"That there is a God, when you look at the sky of Lake Como, is evident. (Robin Williams)"
Lake Como"Who that looks on these tawny hills | Cradling calm day new-born, | Who that sips mead from Como’s stills | This fragrant, sun-bathed morn, Will, bating reverende, record | Fair Como’s wrathful, ways, | And wont only ungrateful, hoard | The tale of her «bade days’?» | To day her ripples play bo-peep, | And dimple at the rocks | Lack in melodious mimicry | A sounding billow mocks."
Lake Como