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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


WHEN THROUGH THE PIAZETTA by THOMAS MOORE


When through the Piazzetta
Night breathes her cool air,
Then, dearest Ninetta,
I'll come to thee there.
Beneath thy mask shrouded,
I'll know thee afar,
As Love knows, though clouded,
his own Evening Star.


In garb, then, resembling
Some gay gondolier,
I'll whisper thee, trembling,
Our bark, love, is near:
Now, now, while there hover
those clouds o'er the moon,
'Twill waft thee safe over
yon silent Lagoon."




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