 | Poems by William W. Story |  |
289
TO G. W. C. AND C. P. C.
The hours on the old Piazza
That overhangs the sea
With a tender and pensive sweetness
At times steal over me;
And again o'er the balcony leaning,
We list to the surf on the beach,
That fills with its solemn warning
The intervals of speech.
That overhangs the sea
With a tender and pensive sweetness
At times steal over me;
And again o'er the balcony leaning,
We list to the surf on the beach,
That fills with its solemn warning
The intervals of speech.
We three sit at night in the moonlight,
As we sat in the summer gone,
And we talk of art and nature
And sing as we sit alone;
We sing the old songs of Sorrento,
Where oranges hang o'er the sea,
And our hearts are tender with dreaming
Of days that no more shall be.
As we sat in the summer gone,
And we talk of art and nature
And sing as we sit alone;
We sing the old songs of Sorrento,
Where oranges hang o'er the sea,
And our hearts are tender with dreaming
Of days that no more shall be.
290
How gayly the hours went with us
In those old days that are gone,
Ah! would we were all together,
Where now I am standing alone.
Could life be again so perfect?
Ah, never! these years so drain
The heart of its freshness of feeling,
But I long, though the longing be vain.
In those old days that are gone,
Ah! would we were all together,
Where now I am standing alone.
Could life be again so perfect?
Ah, never! these years so drain
The heart of its freshness of feeling,
But I long, though the longing be vain.
| Poems by William W. Story | |