 | Poems by William Wetmore Story |  |
251
THE MANDOLINATA.
The night is still, the windows are open,
The air with odours is sweet;
Hark! some one is humming the Mandolinata
Along the open street.
The Mandolinata! Ah me! as I hear it,
Before me you seem to rise
From the other world, with your gentle presence,
Your tender and smiling eyes.
The air with odours is sweet;
Hark! some one is humming the Mandolinata
Along the open street.
The Mandolinata! Ah me! as I hear it,
Before me you seem to rise
From the other world, with your gentle presence,
Your tender and smiling eyes.
How we jested together, and hummed together
That old and threadbare song,
With forced intonations and quaint affectations,
That ended in laughter long!
How oft in the morning beneath your window
I framed to it bantering words,
And heard from within your sweet voice answer
With a flute-tone like a bird's!
That old and threadbare song,
With forced intonations and quaint affectations,
That ended in laughter long!
How oft in the morning beneath your window
I framed to it bantering words,
And heard from within your sweet voice answer
With a flute-tone like a bird's!
And you opened your shutters and sang, “Good morning,
O Troubadour, gallant and gay!”
And I chanted, “O lovely and lazy lady,
I die of this long delay!
Oh, hasten, hasten!” “I'm coming, I'm coming,
Thy lady is coming to thee;”
And then you drew back in your chamber laughing—
Oh, who were so foolish as we?
O Troubadour, gallant and gay!”
And I chanted, “O lovely and lazy lady,
I die of this long delay!
Oh, hasten, hasten!” “I'm coming, I'm coming,
Thy lady is coming to thee;”
252
Oh, who were so foolish as we?
Ah me! that vision comes up before me;
How vivid and young and gay!
Ere Death like a sudden blast blew on you,
And swept life's blossoms away.
Buoyant of spirit, and glad and happy,
And gentle of thought and heart;
Ah! who would believe you were mortally wounded,
So bravely you played your part?
How vivid and young and gay!
Ere Death like a sudden blast blew on you,
And swept life's blossoms away.
Buoyant of spirit, and glad and happy,
And gentle of thought and heart;
Ah! who would believe you were mortally wounded,
So bravely you played your part?
We veiled our fears and our apprehensions,
With hopes that were all in vain;
It was only a sudden cough and spasm
Betrayed the inward pain.
In the midst of our jesting and merry laughter,
We turned aside to sigh,
Looked out of the window, and all the landscape
Grew dim to the brimming eye.
With hopes that were all in vain;
It was only a sudden cough and spasm
Betrayed the inward pain.
In the midst of our jesting and merry laughter,
We turned aside to sigh,
Looked out of the window, and all the landscape
Grew dim to the brimming eye.
And at last, one pleasant summer morning
When roses were all in bloom,
Death gently came with the wandering breezes
To bear your spirit home.
A smile on your lips—a tender greeting—
And all that was once so gay
Was still and calm, with a perfect sadness,
And you had passed away.
When roses were all in bloom,
Death gently came with the wandering breezes
To bear your spirit home.
A smile on your lips—a tender greeting—
And all that was once so gay
Was still and calm, with a perfect sadness,
And you had passed away.
| Poems by William Wetmore Story | |