By that dejected city Arno runs Where Ugolino claspt his famisht sons; There wert thou born, my Julia! there thine eyes Return'd as bright a blue to vernal skies; And thence, sweet infant wanderer! when the Spring Advanced, the Hours brought thee on silent wing, Brought (while anemones were quivering round, And pointed tulips pierced the purple ground) Where stands fair Florence: there thy voice first blest My ears, and sank like balm into my breast. For many griefs had wounded it, and more Thy little hands could lighten, were in store. But why revert to griefs? thy sculptur'd brow Dispels from mine its darkest cloud even now. What then the bliss to see again thy face And all that rumour has announced of grace! I urge with fevered breast the coming day . . O could I sleep and wake again in May! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ODE TO THE RAIN by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE MY LADY'S TEARS by JOHN DOWLAND EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: A DEAD STATESMAN by RUDYARD KIPLING SYMPATHY by HENRY DAVID THOREAU BY BLUE ONTARIO'S SHORE by WALT WHITMAN SOUL AND BODY by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE NEW YEAR'S VERSES FOR THE CARRIER OF THE MIRROR, 1826 by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 24 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |