 | Idyls and Songs |  |
156
LXXIII. NIGHT AND MORNING.
—Quella man già tanto desïata
A me parlando e sospirando porse:
Ond' eterna dolcezza al cor m' è nata—
A me parlando e sospirando porse:
Ond' eterna dolcezza al cor m' è nata—
In dreams I heard thy mother say
‘She yet is ours at dawn of day,
And his before the setting:’—
And thou wast by thy mother's side,
And gav'st a sigh of happy pride,
And sweetness past a life's forgetting.
‘She yet is ours at dawn of day,
And his before the setting:’—
And thou wast by thy mother's side,
And gav'st a sigh of happy pride,
And sweetness past a life's forgetting.
And I: ‘The hour, the hour is come;
Thro' thousand days of bitter gloom,
Thro' long despair rejected:—
My triumph thy sweet smile declares:
I take the hand of many prayers,
I clasp the heart's desire perfected.’
Thro' thousand days of bitter gloom,
Thro' long despair rejected:—
My triumph thy sweet smile declares:
I take the hand of many prayers,
I clasp the heart's desire perfected.’
—I wake to know the vision fled;
The slumberous sweetness vanished,
And dreary daylight gleaming.
—And is the hand—the smile—the sigh—
Love, all thy tokens vanity?
And art thou Love alone in dreaming?
The slumberous sweetness vanished,
And dreary daylight gleaming.
—And is the hand—the smile—the sigh—
Love, all thy tokens vanity?
And art thou Love alone in dreaming?
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