An Italian Garden

When I am dead and I am quite forgot,
What care I if my spirit lives or dies?
To walk with angels in a grassy plot,
And pluck the lilies grown in Paradise?
Ah, no — the heaven of all my heart has been
To hear your voice and catch the sighs between.
Ah, no — the better heaven I fain would give,
But in a cranny of your soul to live.
VIII.
Ah me, you well might wait a little while,
And not forget me, Sweet, until I die!
I had a home, a little distant isle,
With shadowy trees and tender misty sky.
I had a home! It was less dear than thou,
And I forgot, as you forget me now.
I had a home, more dear than I could tell,
And I forgot, but now remember well.
IX.
Love me to-day and think not on to-morrow,
Come, take my hands, and lead me out of doors,
There in the fields let us forget our sorrow,
Talking of Venice and Ionian shores; —
Talking of all the seas innumerable
Where we will sail and sing when I am well;
Talking of Indian roses gold and red,
Which we will plait in wreaths — when I am dead.
x.
There is a Siren in the middle sea
Sings all day long and wreathes her pallid hair,
Seven years you sail, and seven ceaselessly,
From any port ere you adventure there.
Thither we'll go, and thither sail away
Out of the world, to hear the Siren play;
Thither we'll go and hide among her tresses,
Since all the world is savage wildernesses.
XI.
Tell me a story, dear, that is not true,
Strange as a vision, full of splendid things;
Here will I lie and dream it is not you,
And dream it is a mocking bird that sings.
For if I find your voice in any part,
Even the sound of it will break my heart;
For if you speak of us and of our love,
I faint and die to feel the thrill thereof.
XII.
Let us forget we loved each other much,
Let us forget we ever have to part,
Let us forget that any look or touch
Once let in either to the other's heart.
Only we'll sit upon the daisied grass
And hear the larks and see the swallows pass;
Only we'll live awhile, as children play,
Without to-morrow, without yesterday.
XIII.
Far, far away and in the middle sea,
So still I dream, although the dream is vain,
There lies a valley full of rest for me,
Where I shall live and you shall love again.
O ships that sail, O masts against the sky,
Will you not stop awhile in passing by?
O prayers that hope, O faith that never knew,
Will you not take me on to heaven with you?
XIV.
Flower of the Cypress, little bitter bloom,
You are the only blossom left to gather;
I never prized you, grown amid the gloom,
But well you last, though all the others wither.
Flower of the Cypress, I will bind a crown
Tight round my brows to still these fancies down.
Flower of the Cypress, I will tie a wreath
Tight round my breast to kill the heart beneath.
xv.
Ah, Love, I cannot die, I cannot go
Down in the dark and leave you all alone,
Ah, hold me fast, safe in the warmth I know,
And never shut me underneath a stone.
Dead in the grave! And I can never hear
If you are ill or if you miss me, dear.
Dead, oh my God! and you may need me yet,
While I shall sleep, while I— while I— forget!
XVI.
Come away Sorrow, Sorrow come away —
Let us go sit in some cool, shadowy place;
There shall you sing and hush me all the day,
While I will dream about my lover's face.
Hush me, O Sorrow, like a babe to sleep,
Then close the lids above mine eyes that weep;
Rock me, O Sorrow, like a babe in pain,
Nor, when I slumber, wake me up again.