| 1. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 3. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 5. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 6. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
ELEONORA DUSE |
| 3. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | ||
215
ELEONORA DUSE
If ever flashed upon this mortal sceneA soul unsheathèd, a pale, trembling flame,
That suffered every gust, and yet did cling
With fire unquenchable—it is thine own,
Thou artist of the real! Unto thee
No mirth of life is secret; but, sweet soul,
With what sure art thou picturest human woe!
How natural tears to those Italian eyes—
Shadowing in untold depths whatever grief
Familiar is to mortals!
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | ||