tood up like a church

        t nig our love would hold,

        And saintly moonligo search

        And washe whole world    as gold;

        tallized the vales

        Broad slopes until trong:

        tingales

        to either, flame and song.

        tiingales.

        Upon ts shade

        tood, self-balanced high;

        half up, half down, as double-made,

        Along t the sky.

        And oo! from suc

        Such leaps of blood, so blindly driven,

        e scareure meant

        Most passionate eartense heaven.

        tiingales.

        e paled h love,

        e kissed so close    vow;

        till Giulio w, above

        Gods Ever guarahis Now.

        And tingales

        Drove straigheir long clear call,

        Like arrh heroic mails,

        And love    all.

        tiingales.

        O cold we moonligh,

        Refreshis hell!

        O coverture of death

        Across this garden-chamber... well!

        But o do

        In gloomy England, called the free.

        (Yes, free to die in!...) wwo

        Are sundered, singing still to me?

        And still tingales.

        I think I hear him, how he cried

        My oes.

        Eae soul supplied,

        And ts immortal. ts

        On fire o her

        say o me he said!

        A hey aver.

        tingales sing through my head.

        tiingales.

        o    moves .

        name hin

        ito her lips and .

        Man    one soul, tis ordained,

        And eae love, I add;

        Yet souls are damned and loves profaned.

        tingales will sing me mad!

        tiingales.

        I marvel he birds    sing.

        ttle difference, in their view,

        Bet our tus trees t spring

        As vital flames into the blue,

        And dull round blots of foliage meant

        Like saturated sponges here

        to suck tent

        Is oo in tis clear.

        And still tingales.

        My native Florence! dear, fone!

        I see across the Alpine ridge

        feast-day of Saint John

        S rockets from Carraia bridge.

        ty, tall h fire,

        trod deep do river of ours,

        h lamp and choir

        Skimmed birdlike littering towers.

        I    ingales.

        I seem to float, o float

        Doream iive guise;

        A boat strikes flame into our boat,

        And up t lady seems to rise

        As the shock had flashed

        A vision on us!    a head,

        leaping eyeballs!&mdasy dashed

        to splendour by a sudden dread.

        And still tingales.

        too bold to sin, too o die;

        Suen are so. As for me,

        I would we here, he and I,

        t moment, loving perfectly.

        caugh her loosed

        Glets... rarer in th...

        Nor anto bruised

        to sness by h.

        And still tingales.

        S reac my

        itongue, as snakes indeed

        Kill flies; nor ,

        Yearned after, in my desperate need,

        And followed him as he did her

        to coasts left bitter by tide,

        ingales, elsewhere

        Deligorture and deride!

        For still tingales.

        A hless woman! mere cold clay

        As all false t so fair,

        Sakes th of men away

        ho gaze upon her unaware.

        I    play ricks

        to ole,

        And spat into my loves pure pyx

        the rank saliva of her soul.

        And still tingales.

        I    for e and pink,

        though such he likes—her grace of limb,

        t, I think,

        For life itself, t h him,

        it suc

        Gods nature wrude

        t two affianced souls, and

        Like spiders, in tars wood.

        I ot bear tingales.

        If sler guise

        S    seems:

        S    both my eyes,

        And I still seen him in my dreams!

        - ed me in my soup or wine,

        Nor left me angry afterward:

        to die h his hand in mine

        hard.

        (Our Lady ingales!)

        But set a springe for him, mio ben,

        My only good, my first last love!—

        t knows well w sin is, when

        move

        o    her pass.

        I t and day.

        Must I too join , alas!...

        ith Giulio, in each word I say!

        And evermore tingales!

        Giulio, my Giulio!&mdashey so,

        And you be silent? Do I speak,

        And you not hrow

        Round some one, and I feel so weak?

        - Oe,

        te, they sing for doom!

        t,

        tun me in tomb—

        tiingales!
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