To G. W. C. AND C. P. C. THE hours on the old piazza That overhangs the sea With a tender and pensive sweetness At times steal over me; And again o'er the balcony leaning, We list to the surf on the beach, That fills with its solemn warning The intervals of speech. We three sit at night in the moonlight, As we sat in the summer gone, And we talk of art and nature, And sing as we sit alone; We sing the old songs of Sorrento, Where oranges hang o'er the sea, And our hearts are tender with dreaming Of days that no more shall be. How gayly the hours went with us In those old days that are gone, Ah! would we were all together, Where now I am standing alone. Could life be again so perfect? Ah, never! these years so drain The heart of its freshness of feeling, But I long, though the longing be vain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY: THE HYMN by JOHN MILTON EMERSON by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT ANGER AND WRATH by WILLIAM BLAKE THE DEPARTED by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE TO NATURE by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |