At Tiro, in her father’s tower, The young Cristina had her bower, Over blue Bolsena’s lake, Where small frolic ripples break Under a grove of sycamore

Queen Venus on a day of cloud Forsook heaven’s argent palaces, Beneath the roofing vapours bowed And sought a promontory loud Far in the utmost seas.

In drooping leaves of the plane Hangs blue the early heat; Stirless, a delicate shade Sleeps on the parching street. I wander this listless morning

Staggering slowly, and swaying Heavily at each slow foot’s lift a… With tense eyes careless of the ro… That under jut and jag Of half—built wall and scaffold st…

In misty blue the lark is heard Above the silent homes of men; The bright-eyed thrush, the little… The yellow-billed sweet-voiced bla… Mid sallow blossoms blond as curd

As my hand dropt a seed In the dibbled mould And my mind hurried onward To picture the miracle June should unfold,

A leaf on the gray sand—path Fallen, and fair with rime! A yellow leaf, a scarlet leaf, And a green leaf ere its time. Days rolled in blood, days torn,

O my peace, O well So deep no thought could sound it, Whence arose thy spell When in my heart I found it? Like a coral isle

O summer sun, O moving trees! O cheerful human noise, O busy gl… What hour shall Fate in all the f… Or what delights, ever to equal th… Only to taste the warmth, the ligh…

Negligently the cart—track descend… The drench of the rain has passed… Scents are abroad; in the valley a… Along the hidden river, where the… The trees are asleep, their shadow…

Violets, in what pleasant earth yo… I know not, nor what heavenly mois… To tincture in your petals such di… As seems a pure June midnight’s s… But on her bosom when you breathed…

Move onward, Time, and bring us s… From this self—clouding turmoil wh… On others’ errands driven continua… O lead us to our own souls, ere we… We toil for that we love not; thou…

Name, that makes my heart beat, Heard by chance in the throng’d st… How delighted I turn to greet The vision adored, the vision rare… That surely should be where thou a…

Will they blot also out your name Because you praise All works of men that shrine the f… Of beauty’s ways, Wherever men have proved them grea…

I think of a flower that no eye ev… That springs in a solitary air. Is it no one’s joy? It is beautif… Without a kingdom’s care. We have built houses for Beauty,…