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31
LODOVICO SFORZA TO BEATRICE D'ESTE.
(1498.)
Love, as I sat last night upon my bed,
I felt my heart ache suddenly and grow
Big as the world; and now the morning glow
Seems blacker than the night, not rosy red;
I felt my heart ache suddenly and grow
Big as the world; and now the morning glow
Seems blacker than the night, not rosy red;
And on the stairs I hear a mingled tread
Of many, and a whispering below;
And somehow in my inmost soul I know
That they are come to tell me thou art dead.
Of many, and a whispering below;
And somehow in my inmost soul I know
That they are come to tell me thou art dead.
I heard the wind among the withering leaves
Of the tall trees give out a sadder moan
Than when at night some wandering spirit grieves;
Of the tall trees give out a sadder moan
Than when at night some wandering spirit grieves;
And as I heard, I thought: for her alone
Can be this sigh, which Nature suddenly heaves:
What if her soul to Heaven's gate had flown?
Can be this sigh, which Nature suddenly heaves:
What if her soul to Heaven's gate had flown?
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