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At San Gimignano
SOFT gentle wind of warm Italian night,
Go hence and carry through a colder zone
This greeting to my loved one; let the might
Of all the passion that thy land has known
Urge thee to speed in recollection sweet
And guide thee to her chamber; enter there—
Enfold her sleeping in a dream of bliss,
Caress her little feet,
Her lips and all the wonder of her hair,
And lose thyself forever in one kiss.
Beloved with the dear Madonna eyes,
My last thought waking is of that young Love
That leapt full sturdy from two souls' surprise
Their union in his lusty strength to prove.
They were two souls that knew not what they knew,
And yours was fairer than a god's bright form,
While mine was little blessed
Save in the colors that it caught from you.
What new days hold of sunshine or of storm
Sleep, dear, to-night with love warm in thy breast.
Wake, love, and watch the dawn that slowly grows
From gray to gold above the distant wall
Of silent mountains ere they flood with rose
Dumb fervent benedictions over all.
The fair towered city sleeps—a carven stone:
A deep vast quiet hangs upon the air.
The little hills peep out of warm white mist,
Surprised that night has flown—
Drowsed heads with vine-leaves clinging in their hair
And languorous faces pouting to be kissed.
