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One Little Year To-Day
41
Perchance by hand of silence sown, slept the sweet sleep of flowers,
Two blossoms borne upon one bush, in some primæval bowers.
You may have come to cradle-land in many sudden gleams,
Crept through the curtains of the night, and mingled with my dreams.
As man and woman here to-day, we breathe again in song,
Whilst the swart poppé sways our boat in solemn state along,
Beside the sea-washed, lichened walls which guard the Lido land,
Whose further, fairer side, unbound, shelves down in ribs of sand.
Skirting Venezia's arsenal, heart of her ancient might,
