Poems; with introdby Richard Garnett and illusby Byam Shaw . thou, the only real!And scare away this mad IdealThat came, nor motions to depart!Thanks ! Now, stay ever as thou art! Still he if the Three should catch at lastThy serenader? While theres castPauls cloak about my head, and fastGian pinions me, Himself has pastHis stylet thro my back ; I reel;And ... is it Thou I feel ? II They trail me, these three godless knaves,Past every church that sains and saves,Nor stop till, where the cold sea ravesBy Lidos wet accursed scoop mine, roll me to its brink,And ... on Thy
Poems; with introdby Richard Garnett and illusby Byam Shaw . thou, the only real!And scare away this mad IdealThat came, nor motions to depart!Thanks ! Now, stay ever as thou art! Still he if the Three should catch at lastThy serenader? While theres castPauls cloak about my head, and fastGian pinions me, Himself has pastHis stylet thro my back ; I reel;And ... is it Thou I feel ? II They trail me, these three godless knaves,Past every church that sains and saves,Nor stop till, where the cold sea ravesBy Lidos wet accursed scoop mine, roll me to its brink,And ... on Thy breast I sink ! She replies, musing. Dip your arm oer the boat-side, I do: thus : were Death so unlike Sleep,Caught this way ? Death s to fear from flame, or steel,Or poison doubtless ; but from water—feel! Go find the bottom ! Would you stay me ? There !Now pluck a great blade of that ribbon-grassTo plait in where the foolish jewel was,I flung away: since you have praised my hair,Tis proper to be choice in what I wear. 32 IN Pi C ONDOL/^ ^. I «t IN A GONDOLA He speaks. Row home? must we row home? Too surelyKnow I where its fronts demurelyOver the Giudecca piled ;Window just with window mating,Door on door exactly waiting,Alls the set face of a child :But behind it, wheres a traceOf the staidness and reserve,And formal lines without a curve,In the same childs playing-face ?No two windows look one wayOer the small sea-water threadBelow them. Ah, the autumn dayI, passing, saw you overhead !First, out a cloud of curtain blew,Then, a sweet cry, and last, came you—To catch your loory that must need^Escape just then, of all times then,To peck a tall plants fleecy seeds,And make me happiest of scarce could breathe to see you reachSo far back oer the balcony,(To catch him ere he climbed too highAbove you in the Smyrna peach)That quick the round smooth cord of gold,This coiled hair on your head, unrolled,Fell down you like a gorgeous snakeThe Roman girls were wo
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Keywords: ., bookauthorgarnettr, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1904
