EAR yesterday, glide not so fast;O, let me clingTo thy white garments floating past;Even to shadows which they castI cling, I cling.Show me thy faceJust once, once more; a single nightCannot have brought a loss, a blightUpon its grace.Nor are they dead whom thou dost bear,Robed for the grave.See what a smile their red lips wear;To lay them living wilt thou dareInto a grave?I know, I know,I left thee first; now I repent;I listen now; I never meantTo have thee go.Just once, once more, tell me the wordThou hadst for me!Alas! although my heart was stirred,I never fully knew or heardIt was for me.O yesterday,My yesterday, thy sorest pain,Were joy couldst thou but come again,—Sweet yesterday.Venice, May 26.
II.
TO—MORROW.
All red with joy the waiting west,O little swallow,Couldst thou tell me which road is best?Cleaving high air with thy soft breastFor keel, O swallow,Thou must o'erlookMy seas and know if I mistake;I would not the same harbor makeWhich yesterday forsook.
I hear the swift blades dip and plashOf unseen rowers;On unknown land the waters dash;Who knows how it be wise or rashTo meet the rowers!Premì! Premì!Venetia's boatmen lean and cry;With voiceless lips, I drift and lieUpon the twilight sea.
The swallow sleeps. Her last low callHad sound of warningSweet little one, whate'er befall,Thou wilt not know that it was all,In vain thy warning.I may not borrowA Hope, a help. I close my eyes;Cold wind blows from the Bridge of Sighs;Kneeling I wait to-morrow.Venice, May 30
GONDOLIEDS.
"I close my eyes;Cold wind blows from the Bridge of Sighs:Kneeling I wait to-morrow."
EAR yesterday, glide not so fast;O, let me clingTo thy white garments floating past;Even to shadows which they cast I cling, I cling. Show me thy faceJust once, once more; a single nightCannot have brought a loss, a blight Upon its grace.Nor are they dead whom thou dost bear, Robed for the grave.See what a smile their red lips wear;To lay them living wilt thou dare Into a grave? I know, I know,I left thee first; now I repent;I listen now; I never meant To have thee go.Just once, once more, tell me the word Thou hadst for me!Alas! although my heart was stirred,I never fully knew or heard It was for me. O yesterday,My yesterday, thy sorest pain,Were joy couldst thou but come again,— Sweet yesterday.Venice, May 26.