Читать книгу Underneath the Bough: A Book of Verses онлайн
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Nor left thee, darkling, in Earth’s devious ways.
Thou’rt one with that sweet sisterhood which raise
To “untouched Dian,” all clear streams along,
Their full-voiced anthem. Thou a Vestal art
At true-love’s altar. Atala, and the Maid,
And Mary all are sisters of thy blood!
Thy very name is virgin!... I, afraid,
How shall I press my kisses on thy heart,
Or loose the girdle of thy maidenhood?...
Longings.
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“... Nessun maggior dolore
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Nella miseria...”
Inferno, V, 121.
FAR from the sea-girt City that I love,
My wandering ways by care attended lie;
Cold is the azure of this foreign sky,
And strange these clustered stars that burn above.
Out from this loveless land would I remove
To seek thy spring Pierian, never-dry,
Thou thrice-crowned City! Hear my fainting cry.
Let not my passionate longing fruitless prove!
Would I once more might see the dome of gold
Burning aloft, beneath my native sky!
The river, winding near my home of old,
And once again to breathe before I die,