The earth worm is creeping
The mourners are weeping
Ding dong, bell–
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I.
Perchance were death indeed!—Constantia, turn!In thy dark eyes a power like light doth lie,Even though the sounds which were thy voice, which burnBetween thy lips, are laid to sleep;Within thy breath, and on thy hair, like odour, it is yet,And from thy touch like fire doth leap.Even while I write, my burning cheeks are wet.Alas,…
I.
Halcyons of Memory,Seek some far calmer nestThan this abandoned breast!No news of your false springTo my heart’s winter bring,Once having gone, in vainYe come again.II.Vultures, who build your bowersHigh in the Future’s towers,Withered hopes on hopes are spread!Dying joys, choked by the dead,Will serve your beaks for preyMany a day.
Alas, good friend, what profit can you see
There is no sport in hate where all the rageIs on one side: in vain would you assuageYour frowns upon an unresisting smile,In which not even contempt lurks to beguileYour heart, by some faint sympathy of hate.Oh, conquer what you cannot satiate!For to your passion I am far more coyThan ever yet was coldest maid…
I.
Of the Nymphs of earth or ocean;They are robes that fit the wearer–Those soft limbs of thine, whose motionEver falls and shifts and glancesAs the life within them dances.II.Thy deep eyes, a double Planet,Gaze the wisest into madnessWith soft clear fire,–the winds that fan itAre those thoughts of tender gladnessWhich, like zephyrs on the billow,Make…
At the creation of the Earth
From the soil of Heaven did rise,Wrapped in sweet wild melodies–Like an exhalation wreathingTo the sound of air low-breathingThrough Aeolian pines, which makeA shade and shelter to the lakeWhence it rises soft and slow;Her life-breathing [limbs] did flowIn the harmony divineOf an ever-lengthening lineWhich enwrapped her perfect formWith a beauty clear and warm.
The season was the childhood of sweet June,
Went creeping through the day with silent feet,Each with its load of pleasure; slow yet sweet;Like the long years of blest EternityNever to be developed. Joy to thee,Fiordispina and thy Cosimo,For thou the wonders of the depth canst knowOf this unfathomable flood of hours,Sparkling beneath the heaven which embowers–…They were two cousins, almost like to…