 | Poems by William W. Story |  |
293
SORRENTO.
The midnight, thick with cloud,
Hangs o'er the city's jar,
The spirit's shell is in the crowd,
The spirit is afar;
Far, where in shadowy gloom
Sleeps the dark orange grove,
My sense is drunk with its perfume,
My heart with love.
Hangs o'er the city's jar,
The spirit's shell is in the crowd,
The spirit is afar;
Far, where in shadowy gloom
Sleeps the dark orange grove,
My sense is drunk with its perfume,
My heart with love.
The slumberous, whispering sea,
Creeps up the sands to lay
Its sliding bosom fringed with pearls
Upon the rounded bay.
List! all the trembling leaves
Are rustling overhead,
Where purple grapes are hanging dark
On the trellised loggia spread.
Creeps up the sands to lay
Its sliding bosom fringed with pearls
Upon the rounded bay.
List! all the trembling leaves
Are rustling overhead,
294
On the trellised loggia spread.
Far off, a misted cloud,
Hangs fair Inarimè.
The boatman's song from the lighted boat
Rises from out the sea.
We listen—then thy voice
Pours forth a honeyed rhyme;
Ah! for the golden nights we passed
In our Italian time.
Hangs fair Inarimè.
The boatman's song from the lighted boat
Rises from out the sea.
We listen—then thy voice
Pours forth a honeyed rhyme;
Ah! for the golden nights we passed
In our Italian time.
There is the laugh of girls
That walk along the shore,
The marinaio calls to them
As he suspends his oar.
Vesuvius rumbles sullenly,
With fitful lurid gleam,
The background of all Naples life,
The nightmare of its dream.
That walk along the shore,
The marinaio calls to them
As he suspends his oar.
Vesuvius rumbles sullenly,
With fitful lurid gleam,
The background of all Naples life,
The nightmare of its dream.
295
Oh! lovely, lovely Italy,
I yield me to thy spell!
Reach the guitar, my dearest friend,
We'll sing, “Home! fare thee well!”
Oh! world of work and noise,
What spell hast thou for me?
The syren Beauty charms me here
Beyond the sea.
I yield me to thy spell!
Reach the guitar, my dearest friend,
We'll sing, “Home! fare thee well!”
Oh! world of work and noise,
What spell hast thou for me?
The syren Beauty charms me here
Beyond the sea.
| Poems by William W. Story | |