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The princess looked down from her bower high,
The youth ceased his blowing, his horn he laid by.
Why are you so quiet? Now more shall you blow,
It lifts all my thoughts, that would far away go,
Now, when sets the sun."

The princess looked down from her bower high,
The youth blew again, as he lingered thereby.
Then weeping, she whispered: "O God, let me know
The name of this sorrow that burdens me so! —
Now has set the sun."

FROM MONTE PINCIO

Evening is coming, the sun waxes red,
Radiant colors from heaven are beaming
Life's lustrous longings in infinite streaming; —
Glory in death o'er the mountains is spread.
Cupolas burn, but the fog in far masses
Over the bluish-black fields softly passes,
Rolling as whilom oblivion pale;
Hid is yon valley 'neath thousand years' veil.

Evening so red and warm

Glows as the people swarm,

Notes of the cornet flare,

Flowers and brown eyes fair. Great men of old stand in marble erected, Waiting, scarce known and neglected.

Vespers are ringing, through roseate air
Nebulous floating of tone-sacrifices,
Twilight in churches now broadens and rises,
Incense and word fill the evening with prayer.
Over the Sabines the flame-belt is knotted,
Shepherds' lights through the Campagna are dotted,
Rome with her lamps dimly breaks on the sight,—
Shadowy legend from history's night.

But to the evening's spell

Dances the Saltarell';—

Fireworks flash and play,

Mora and laughter gay;—
Colors and tones in all thoughts are enthroning
Harmony's gracious condoning.

Lost has the light in its soundless affray,
Heaven its vaulting of dark-blue is framing,
Where from infinity deep stars are flaming,
Earth's masses sink into vapor away.
Fleeing the darkness, the eyes seek the city,
Meet with its torches a corpse borne in pity;
These seek the night, but a flag is each light,
Waving the hope of eternity bright.

Gaily to dance and wine

Mandolins give the sign.

Monkish song, noise of streets,

Drowned by a drum's stern beats;— Through all the dreaming life's arteries flowing, Glimpses of daylight are going.

Silence o'er all, and the darker blue sky
Watches serenely expectant, 'mid cheering
Dreams of the past and the future that's nearing: —
Fluctuant gleams in the gray that is nigh.
But they will gather, and Rome be resurgent,
Day-dawn from Italy's midnight emergent:
Cannon shall sound and the bells ring the new,
Mem'ries illumine the future's bright blue! —

Greeting a bridal pair

Charming in hope so rare,

Voices bring soft salute,

Music of harp and flute.
Mightier yearnings sweet sleep is beguiling;—
Lesser dare waken to smiling.

IF ONLY YOU KNEW IT

I Dare never speak up to you,
For you to look down would not do,
But always you are there each day,
And always I wander this way.
Our thoughts go by stealth to make search and renew it,
But neither dares question nor give answer due it;
If only you knew it!

When constantly I could be found,
You often in pride on me frowned;
But now that I rarely appear,
I see that you wait for me here!

Two eyes, oh, two eyes made a snare and then drew it,
And who would escape must beware, and eschew it!
If only you knew it!

Yes, if you but guessed, this might be
A poem for you made by me,
Whose billowy lines just now fly
Up where you stand graceful and high!
But look you, this knowledge, to no purpose grew it,
I farther will go, Heaven guard, lest we rue it,—
If only you knew it!

THE ANGELS OF SLEEP

Asleep the child fell

When night cast its spell;

The angels came near

With laughter and cheer. Her watch at its waking the mother was keeping: "How sweet, my dear child, was your smile now while sleeping!"

To God mother went,

From home it was rent;

Asleep the child fell

'Neath tears' troublous spell. But soon it heard laughter and mother-words tender; The angels brought dreams full of childhood's rare splendor.

It grew with the years,

Till gone were the tears;

Asleep the child fell,

While thoughts cast their spell. But faithful the angels their vigils were keeping, The thoughts took and whispered: "Have peace now, while sleeping!"

THE MAIDEN ON THE SHORE

She wandered so young on the shore around,
Her thoughts were by naught on earth now bound.
Soon came there a painter, his art he plied

Above the tide,

In shadow wide,—
He painted the shore and herself beside.

More slowly she wandered near him around,
Her thoughts by a single thing were bound.
And this was his picture wherein he drew

Herself so true,

Herself so true,
Reflected in ocean with heaven's blue.

All driven and drawn far and wide around
Her thoughts now by everything were bound.
Far over the ocean,—and yet most dear

The shore right here,

The man so near,—
Did ever the sunshine so bright appear!

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