 | Graffiti d'Italia |  |
317
UNDER THE CYPRESSES.
Here I stand in the cypress lane;
I see the light in her window shine;
Ah, God! can this love be all in vain,
And shall she never be mine?
I see the light in her window shine;
Ah, God! can this love be all in vain,
And shall she never be mine?
There stays her shadow against the walls;
There moves on the ceiling to and fro:
She does not think of the heart that calls
So loud in the dark below.
There moves on the ceiling to and fro:
She does not think of the heart that calls
So loud in the dark below.
Why should she think of a fool like me,
Though I'd give my life to save her a pain?
The stars might as well look down to see
The fire-flies in the lane.
Though I'd give my life to save her a pain?
318
The fire-flies in the lane.
I am too low for her to love;
And I would not give her the pain to say
That a love like mine could only prove
A shadow upon her way.
And I would not give her the pain to say
That a love like mine could only prove
A shadow upon her way.
So I stand in the cypress shade and weep—
I weep, for my heart is sick with love;
And I pray for strength my vow to keep,
As I gaze on the sky above.
I weep, for my heart is sick with love;
And I pray for strength my vow to keep,
As I gaze on the sky above.
Is it wrong to gaze at her window-sill,
Where she sits like an angel in a shrine,
While my heart cries out, despite my will,
“Ah, heaven! were she but mine?”
Where she sits like an angel in a shrine,
While my heart cries out, despite my will,
“Ah, heaven! were she but mine?”
Heart of mine, I could tear you out!
Am I so weak and faint of will
That the fair dear serpent coiled about
My purpose I cannot kill?
Am I so weak and faint of will
That the fair dear serpent coiled about
My purpose I cannot kill?
319
Where is my vaunted manhood fled?
Come, my pride—my pride, come back!
Serve me and prompt me a while, instead
Of all I so sadly lack!
Come, my pride—my pride, come back!
Serve me and prompt me a while, instead
Of all I so sadly lack!
Vain! ah, vain! all day and night
One thought, like a ghost, I cannot lay,
Ranges my life and haunts my sight,
And never will pass away.
One thought, like a ghost, I cannot lay,
Ranges my life and haunts my sight,
And never will pass away.
It mocks me and beckons at my work,
It lures me away from joy and ease;
Where shall I flee that it does not lurk,
This shadow no hand can seize?
It lures me away from joy and ease;
Where shall I flee that it does not lurk,
This shadow no hand can seize?
Give me something to meet and grasp!
I faint with fighting this thing of air!
I die despairing in its clasp!
Its presence I cannot bear!
I faint with fighting this thing of air!
I die despairing in its clasp!
Its presence I cannot bear!
Oh, give me strength, my God, to endure!
Let me not writhe to death in the grass!
Send me, ye stars, from your chambers pure,
Some ease, as ye coldly pass!
Let me not writhe to death in the grass!
320
Some ease, as ye coldly pass!
Look at this poor mad wretch that lies
Beating his brain that is all afire!
Pity him here as he grovelling dies
In the flames of his vain desire!
Beating his brain that is all afire!
Pity him here as he grovelling dies
In the flames of his vain desire!
| Graffiti d'Italia | |