 | Graffiti d'Italia |  |
343
OPHELIA.
The rising wind o'er wold and hill
Blows dreary, leadening all the lake;
And all the whitened willows shake,
And twilight closes blear and chill.
Blows dreary, leadening all the lake;
And all the whitened willows shake,
And twilight closes blear and chill.
The mist hangs thickening o'er the sea,
A spectral light is in the sky,
And all the branches creak and sigh,
And my heart sighs with them drearily.
A spectral light is in the sky,
And all the branches creak and sigh,
And my heart sighs with them drearily.
Oh where is love that once was mine?
Speak, oh my heart, and tell me where!
Tell me, oh wind! whose wild despair
Is wrestling with the straining pine!
Speak, oh my heart, and tell me where!
Tell me, oh wind! whose wild despair
Is wrestling with the straining pine!
344
I rock its corpse so cold and pale,
I braid its hair and kiss its eyes,
And deck it with sweet memories;
Yet what can tears and moans avail?
I braid its hair and kiss its eyes,
And deck it with sweet memories;
Yet what can tears and moans avail?
Oh call it back to life again,
With all its tones of youth and spring;
Or break at once the throbbing string
That jars so wildly in my brain.
With all its tones of youth and spring;
Or break at once the throbbing string
That jars so wildly in my brain.
The past is past,—with sullen moan,
Oh dreary wind, I hear you cry!
And all the struggling trees reply,
Alone, alone, alone, alone.
Oh dreary wind, I hear you cry!
And all the struggling trees reply,
Alone, alone, alone, alone.
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