IT was a sultry Júly day, Strétched on the Alpine sward I lay; The sun's downdárting rays to shroud. 'Twas noón; no breath, no stir, no sound And there upon the grass I lay And so the livelong summer day For his thoughts were of self and Rome, While walking from PEUDELSTEIN in the valley of AMPEZZO, to Ampezzo, July 23, 1854. WRITTEN UNDER THE PORTRAIT OF SIGNOR ANGELO MICHELE NEGRELLI AND ELISABETHA NEGRELLI OF PRIMIERO WHO AFTER HAVING BEEN SIXTY FOUR YEARS MARRIED, AND HAVING EACH ATTAINED NEARLY THE AGE OF NINETY, DIED IN THE YEAR 1849 WITHIN THREE DAYS OF EACH OTHER. THEY lived through every change of wind and weather Thén, within three days of each other, died "How happens it that no one with his lot PRIMIERO in the Italian TYROL, July 30, 1854. THE GATES OF SLEEP. THERE are two gates of Sleep, the poet says; When lábor ceases, every sound is hushed, Fresh Strength and ruddy Health and calm Composure The sécond gate is wreathed, sideposts and lintel, The shadowy gateway paved with poppyheads. And there, all day and night, keeps watch sick Fancy The third gate is of lead, and thére sits ever Tired of hersélf; about her on the ground Sérmons and psalms and hymns lie numerous strewed, Tó the same import all, and all almost Ín the same words varied in form and order And different seem, where difference is none. At th' opposite doorpost, on her knees, Routine Óf the same prayerbook; reading prayers, not praying; And Úniformity, Oneness of faith, Óneness of laws and customs, arts and manners, And, Sélfdevelopment's unrelenting foe, Céntralisation; and behind these still, Fár in the portal's deepest gloom ensconced, Of mére, blank nought unchangeable for ever - PRIMIERO, in the Italian TYROL, July 30, 1854. DEATH'S BRIDE. "So young! so fair! so kind! so true! With heart as marble hard and cold, Death's bride upon her bridal night. Walking from PRIMIERO to CASTEL DELLA BETTOLA, on the SCHENNER (Italian TYROL), Aug. 1, 1854. WRITTEN IN LA BARONESSA SOFIA FIORIO's album. NEAR RIVA ON THE LAGO DI GARDA, AUG. 25, 1854. "COME, something for me write, Sir.' "What, Lady, shall I write?" "The first thought in your head comes “Nay, nảy; I vow I cảnnot, SAN GIACOMO, INSCRIPTION FOR THE ALBUM IN WHICH LA BARONESSA KITTY FIORIO SKETCHED THE LIKENESSES OF HER FRIENDS. Thése of my friends are sketches Which don't pretend to art; I have their perfect portraits, But they're locked up in my heart. KITTY FIORIO. WRITTEN UNDER THE PRECEDING. I always knew my sister Was an adept in her art, But I never until nów knew She had a hollow heart. SOFIA FIORIO. SAN GIACOMO, near RIVA on the LAGO DI GARDA, Aug. 25, 1854. |