The poems and prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough With a selection from his letters and a memoir: Edited by his wife: In two volumes: With a portrait |
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V. Claude to Eustace,—from Bellaggio.
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 | The poems and prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough |  |
344
V. Claude to Eustace,—from Bellaggio.
I have but one chance left,—and that is going to Florence.But it is cruel to turn. The mountains seem to demand me,—
Peak and valley from far to beckon and motion me onward.
Somewhere amid their folds she passes whom fain I would follow;
Somewhere among those heights she haply calls me to seek her.
Ah, could I hear her call! could I catch the glimpse of her raiment!
Turn, however, I must, though it seem I turn to desert her;
For the sense of the thing is simply to hurry to Florence,
Where the certainty yet may be learnt, I suppose, from the Ropers.
| The poems and prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough | |