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101
A Cry from Florence.
DECEMBER 12TH, 1889.
Take home the heart, her heart that cannot rest
Though in Etruria's southern-natured ground,
Take home the heart that fire and fulness found
In that sure heart whose secret she possest,
Take home the heart, the heart that at its best
Was bettered for his singing, whose strong sound
Was sweeter by her song, for she was crowned
Queen of a heart that was her King confest.
Though in Etruria's southern-natured ground,
Take home the heart that fire and fulness found
In that sure heart whose secret she possest,
Take home the heart, the heart that at its best
Was bettered for his singing, whose strong sound
Was sweeter by her song, for she was crowned
Queen of a heart that was her King confest.
Hearts such as these have never ceased from beating,
Hearts such as these by sympathy divine
Will palpitate in death, harmonious measure.
And still I hear a spirit voice entreating,
Let Arno give the Thames her poet-treasure,
One grave the dust of two immortals' shrine.
Hearts such as these by sympathy divine
Will palpitate in death, harmonious measure.
And still I hear a spirit voice entreating,
Let Arno give the Thames her poet-treasure,
One grave the dust of two immortals' shrine.
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