Their bee-like way to gardens almost worth The vision of the stars, we find it hard, ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. TO ITALY Stanzas from the "Italian Rhapsody." ABSENCE from thee is such as men endure Between the glad betrothal and the bride; Or like the years that Youth, intense and sure, From his ambition to his goal must bide. And if no more I may Mount to Fiesole Oh, then were Memory meant for those to whom is Hope denied. Show me a lover who hath drunk by night While moonlit cloister calls With plashy fountain-falls, Or darkened Arno moves to music with its mirrored light. Who can withstand thee? What distress or care But yields to Naples, or that long day-dream We know as Venice, where alone more fair Noon is than night; where every lapping stream Woos with a soft caress Our new-world weariness, And every ripple smiles with joy at sight of scene so rare. The mystery of thy charm-ah, who hath guessed? "T were ne'er divined by day or shown in sleep; Yet sometimes Music, floating from her steep, Holds to our lips a chalice brimmed and blest: Then know we that thou art Of the Ideal part Of Man's one thirst that is not quenched, drink he howe'er so deep. Thou human-hearted land, whose revels hold How thou dost hold him near And whisper in his ear Of the lost Paradise that lies beyond the alluring haze! In tears I tossed my coin from Trevi's edge,- And, with the instinct of the homing dove, Has quenched my flame of breath, Oh, let me join the faithful shades that throng that fount above. ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON. ITALIA ITALIA! thou art fallen, though with sheen And on thy sapphire lake in tossing pride O Fair and Strong! O Strong and Fair in vain! Look southward where Rome's desecrated town And smite the Spoiler with the sword of pain. A SONG OF ITALY ITALIA! by the passion of the pain That bent and rent thy chain; Italia; by the breaking of the bands, The shaking of the lands; Beloved, O men's mother, O men's queen, Arise, appear, be seen! Arise, array thyself in manifold Queen's raiment of wrought gold; With girdles of green freedom, and with red Roses, and white snow shed Above the flush and frondage of the hills That all thy deep dawn fills That all thy clear night veils and warms with wings Spread till the morning sings; The rose of resurrection, and the bright Breast lavish of the light, The lady lily like the snowy sky As red as blood, and whiter than a wave, From the green fruitful grass in Maytime hot, Gather the grass and weave, in sacred sign The holy heart of things, the seed of birth, O thou her flower of flowers, with treble braid In witness of her mighty motherhood Who bore thee and found thee good, Her fairest-born of children, on whose head Are hope and light and life, inviolate Of any latter fate. Fly, O our flag, through deep Italian air, Above the flags that were, The dusty shreds of shameful battle-flags As withering woods in autumn's bitterest breath Yellow, and black as death; Black as crushed worms that sicken in the sense, And yellow as pestilence. Fly, green as summer and red as dawn and white |