I.

        Dead ! One of t by t,

        And one of t in t by the sea.

        Dead ! bot at t

        And are ing a great song for Italy free,

        Let none look at me !

        II.

        Yet I ess only last year,

        And good at my art, for a woman, men said ;

        But this, who is agonized here,

        -- t sea and    sea rhyme on in her head

        For ever instead.

        III.

        art    a    ? Oh, vain !

        art is s, but ing

        iteet the pain ?

        A ! y as you pressed,

        And I proud, by t test.

        IV.

        arts for a o hold on her knees

        Boto feel all t,

        g, strangle a little ! to sew by degrees

        And broider t little coat ;

        to dream and to doat.

        V.

        to teac stings them indeed

        Speak plain try. I taug,

        t a trys a t need.

        I prated of liberty, rig

        tyrant cast out.

        VI.

        And wiful eyes ! ...

        I exulted ; nay, let t the wheels

        Of t. But the surprise

        s quite alohen one kneels !

        God, he house feels !

        VII.

        At first, ters moiled

        ith my kisses, -- of camp-life and glory, and how

        to be spoiled

        Iurn would fan off every fly from my brow

        itheir green laurel-bough.

        VIII.

        triump turin : `Ana was free !

        73

        And some one came out of treet,

        itoo say someto me.

        My Guido    ,

        reet.

        IX.

        I bore it ; friends soothed me ; my grief looked sublime

        As taly. One boy remained

        to be leant on and ime

        greal, wrained

        to t he had gained.

        X.

        Aers still came, ser, sadder, more strong,

        rit no io faint, --

        One loved me for th me ere long :

        And Viva l Italia ! -- ,

        ."

        XI.

        My Nanni would add, `he was safe, and aware

        Of a preseurned off t

        It was Guido    I could bear,

        And e dispossessed,

        to live on for t."

        XII.

        On elegraph line

        S smoot nea : -- S.

        tell    ` mine,

        No voice says "My mot; again to me.    !

        You t ?

        XIII.

        Are souls straig, dizzy h heaven,

        tions, ceive not of woe ?

        I t. too lately fiven

        t Love and Sorrow which reciled so

        the Above and Below.

        XIV.

        O C of t the dark

        to ther ! sider, I pray,

        and desolate, mark,

        being Cs, die urned away,

        And no last o say !

        XV.

        Bot ts out of nature. e all

        riots, yet eac always keep one.

        to a wall ;

        And,    done

        74

        If we    a son ?

        XVI.

        Aas taken, hen ?

        s no more at

        Of t of men ?

        ort

        t ?

        XVII.

        heir new jubilee,

        akes all s we, green, and red,

        ry from mountain to sea,

        or alys    on his head,

        (And I have my Dead) --

        XVIII.

        t mock me. Ah, ring your bells low,

        And burn yly ! My try is there,

        Above tar pricked by t peak of snow :

        My Italy s th my brave civic Pair,

        to disfranchise despair !

        XIX.

        Five me. Some h,

        And bite back their pain in self-s ;

        But tions    length

        Into wail su forlorn

        he man-child is born.

        XX.

        Dead ! One of t by t,

        And one of t in t by the sea.

        Bot

        You    a great song for your Italy free,

        Let none look at me !

        [turin, a poetess and patriot, w

        Ana and Gaeta.]
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