San Rocco

Her face for him was pencilled pure and fine
Athwart the gloaming ; and, " O lady mine,"
He whispered, "how adorable are you
To-night I forgive me ! " till there softly grew
A tender arm around her form, and she
Yielded and leaned on him responsively.
Until his blood ran fire when she pressed
Her dewy, ripe young lips upon his breast,
Moonwhite in moonlight ; for a ray had come
To nestle in the fair, congenial home.
Then mouth burned mouth, her undulating charms
Yielding to his luxurious young arms.
Later, in sweet confusion's disarray.
Hand in hand stole they to a little bay,
Where a pale foam stole out of a grey sea.
And kissed the pale rock ever murmurously.
Cypress leaned mournful over, and a throng
Of hushful moonwhite houses lay along
Yon circling shoreside, minarets, how fair !
Arising tall and slender into air :
A chaunt was wafted from a fisher's boat,
Dozing upon the pearl with nets afloat.
Shadowy, folding mountains from the sea
Rise to enclose the bay's chalcedony :
Ida beyond, dim silvered of the moon,
Soars with her snow in some enchanted swoon :
Delicate shells with whorl, and valve, and spire
Gleam in a rhythmic phosphorescent fire.
Silently dreams near yonder myrtle brake
An egret, plumed as with a soft snowflake,
Like a pure soul by some celestial lake.
Lo ! now the lovers' dainty limbs will lave
In the delicious coolness of the wave.

" I with thee,
By fringes of the pale, enamoured sea.
On the shore's bosom dying dreamfully,
.Singing in the leaves,
Love it is who weaves
Around our hearts a heavenly mystery!"
Then as they neared their villa, in a tunnel
Of oranges where purls a crystal runnel,
A rustle in the trees she thought she heard,
And deemed she saw a shadow; " 'Tis a bird,"
He whispered, after pausing: "all's a dream ! "
She murmured, "Ah! how heavenly a dream ! " . . .
. . . Out of the shadow flashed a steely gleam :
Her own death-shriek awoke her, and she fell
At the feet of her angel Azrael.

Mourn for Annabel I
The village bell is tolling, and she will
Never arise from where she lieth still,
Cold and so lovely, flowers white and red.
Old dames and tender damozels have shed
Tearful, all over her, in shadowy air
Alive with perfume curling blue and rare.
Jewels and gold and jasper glowing deep
As in a dreamland of a solemn sleep,
With solemn music plaining while the mourners weep.
There is a little chapel rude
On a terraced hill,
With cypress round the solitude
Of a platform still;

Cypress flames of darkling green.
Rich athwart the blue ;
Fair among them ocean-sheen
Softly twinkles through.

Within one open end, in line,
Vessels rudely made
Hang, with perils of the brine
On either wall, displayed.

Each unskilful picture shows.
On the marge, a form
Of Her who, when the whirlwind blows,
Saveth men from storm.

There a lamp of silver gleams,
Like an evening star ;
O'er a spangled altar beams.
In twilight cool afar.

Home-bound sailors from the deep,
When the belfry small
Of San Rocco on the steep
First appeareth, fall

At our Lady's feet of grace :
When a woman old,
Gaunt and homeliest of her race,
Falteringly told

The story of her son to me,
A bold young mariner.
How once he sailed, and from the sea
Came ne'er again to her ;

And how he vowed before he sailed,
If ever he returned,
His votive vessel should be nailed,
And in the lamp be burned

His votive amber oil above,
At yonder mountain shrine.
Where perilled sailors prove their love
To Mary the Divine ;

Where every pious mariner
Leaves a lowly gift for Her ;
Fair the mother was with tears.
For all her homeliness and years.

Nervi.