EVENING. PONTE A MARE, PISA. I. THE sun is set; the swallows are asleep; II. There is no dew on the dry grass to-night, Nor damp within the shadow of the trees; The wind is intermitting, dry, and light; And in the inconstant motion of the breeze The dust and straws are driven up and down, And whirled about the pavement of the town. III. Within the surface of the fleeting river Immovably unquiet, and for ever It trembles, but it never fades away; Go to the ... You, being changed, will find it then as now. IV. The chasm in which the sun has sunk is shut TO-MORROW. I. WHERE art thou, beloved To-morrow? In thy place ah! well-a-day! II. If I walk in Autumn's even Summer's clouds, where are they now? MUSIC. I. I PANT for the music which is divine, II. Let me drink of the spirit of that sweet sound, It loosens the serpent which care has bound The dissolving strain, through every vein, III. As the scent of a violet withered up, Which grew by the brink of a silver lake; When the hot noon has drained its dewy cup, And mist there was none its thirst to slake And the violet lay dead while the odour flew On the wings of the wind o'er the waters blue IV. As one who drinks from a charmed cup Of foaming, and sparkling and murmuring wine, Whom, a mighty Enchantress filling up, Invites to love with her kiss divine. . THE ZUCCA. I. SUMMER was dead and Autumn was expiring, Had left the earth bare as the wave-worn sand II. Summer was dead, but I yet lived to weep And on the Earth lulled in her winter sleep I woke, and envied her as she was sleeping. Too happy Earth! over thy face shall creep No death divide thy immortality. see III. I loved - O no, I mean not one of ye, -- I loved, I know not what but this low sphere And all that it contains, contains not thee, Thou, whom seen nowhere, I feel everywhere. From heaven and earth, and all that in them are, Veiled art thou, like a star. IV. By Heaven and Earth, from all whose shapes thou flowest, Neither to be contained, delayed, nor hidden, Making divine the loftiest and the lowest, When for a moment thou art not forbidden To live within the life which thou bestowest; And leaving noblest things vacant and chidden, Cold as a corpse after the spirit's flight, Blank as the sun after the birth of night. |