Eight Years Ago

To-night for the first time, eight years gone by,
We stood in Dante's Florence, and felt beat
Our hearts to know we passed where fell his feet.
To-night I walk beneath an English sky.
And round me, meek and very peacefully
Our English country stretches. Oh, how fleet.
How fair with dreams accomplished, heavenly sweet,
Was that, our sovereign month in Italy!

I wonder if your soul has been, this hour.
To lean witli mine where sacred Arno flows,
So much, to-night, the Past asserts its power.
Nay, no dream comes through your divine repose
Deep under grass and many a watching flower;
'Twas but my love that feigned it drew thee close.