 | Poems |  |
41
ON LAKE COMO.
The stars are o'er our heads in hollow skies,In hollow skies the stars beneath our boat.
Betwixt the stars of two infinities,
Midway upon a gleaming film, we float.
My lips are on the sounding horn;
The sounding horn with music fills.
Faint echoes backwards from the world are borne,
Tongued by yon dusky zone of slumbering hills.
The world spreads wide on every side,
But dark and cold it seems to me.
What care I, on this charmèd tide,
For aught save those far stars and thee?
An. æt. 17.
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