The Confessional

I thought of thee — I thought of thee
On ocean many a weary night,
When heaved the long and sullen sea,
With only waves and stars in sight.
We stole along by isles of balm,
We furl'd before the coming gale,
We slept amid the breathless calm,
We flew beneath the straining sail, —
But thou wert lost for years to me,
And day and night I thought of thee!

I thought of thee — I thought of thee
In France, amid the gay saloon,
Where eyes as dark as eyes may be
Are many as the leaves in June:
Where life is love, and e'en the air
Is pregnant with impassion'd thought,
And song, and dance, and music are
With one warm meaning only fraught,
My half-snared heart broke lightly free,
And, with a blush, I thought of thee!

I thought of thee — I thought of thee
In Florence, where the fiery hearts
Of Italy are breathed away
In wonders of the deathless arts;
Where strays the Contadina, down
Val d' Arno, with song of old;
Where clime and women seldom frown,
And life runs over sands of gold;
I stray'd to lonely Fiesole,
On many an eve, and thought of thee —

I thought of thee — I thought of thee
In Rome, when, on the Palatine,
Night left the Cesar's palace free
To Time's forgetful foot and mine;
Or, on the Coliseum's wall,
When moonlight touch'd the ivied stone,
Keclining, with a thought of all
That o'er this scene hath come and gone,
The shades of Rome would start and flee
Unconsciously — I thought of thee.

I thought of thee — I thought of thee
In Vallombrosa's holy shade,
Where nobles born the friars be,
By life's rude changes humbler made.
Here Milton framed his Paradise;
I slept within his very cell;
And, as I closed my weary eyes,
I thought the cowl would fit me well;
The cloisters breathed, it seem'd to me,
Of heart's-ease — but I thought of thee.

I thought of thee — I thought of thee
In Venice, on a night in June;
When, through the city of the sea,
Like dust of silver, slept the moon.
Slow turn'd his oar the gondolier,
And, as the black barks glided by,
The water, to my leaning ear,
Bore back the lover's passing sigh;
It was no place alone to be,
I thought of thee — I thought of thee.

I thought of thee — I thought of thee
In the Ionian isles, when straying
With wise Ulysses by the sea,
Old Homee's songs around me playing;
Or, watching the bewitch'd caique,
That o'er the star-lit waters flew,
I listen'd to the helmsman Greek,
Who sung the song that Sappho knew:
The poet's spell, the bark, the sea,
All vanish'd as I thought of thee.

I thought of thee — I thought of thee
In Greece, when rose the Parthenon
Majestic o'er the Egean sea,
And heroes with it, one by one;
When, in the grove of Academe,
Where Lais and Leontium stray'd
Discussing Plato's mystic theme,
I lay at noontide in the shade —
The Egean wind, the whispering tree
Had voices — and I thought of thee.

I thought of thee — I thought of thee
In Asia, on the Dardanelles,
Where, swiftly as the waters flee,
Each wave some sweet old story tells;
And, seated by the marble tank
Which sleeps by Ilium's ruins old,
(The fount where peerless Helen drank,
And Venus laved her locks of gold,)
I thrill'd such classic haunts to see,
Yet oven here I thought of thee.

I thought of thee — I thought of thee
Where glide the Bosphor's lovely waters,
All palace-lined from sea to sea:
And ever on its shores the daughters
Of the delicious east are seen,
Printing the brink with slipper'd feet,
And, O, the snowy folds between,
What eyes of heaven your glances meet!
Peris of light no fairer be,
Yet, in Stamboul, I thought of thee.

I've thought of thee — I've thought of thee,
Through change that teaches to forget;
Thy face looks up from every sea,
In every star thine eyes are set.
Though roving beneath orient skies,
Whose golden beauty breathes of rest,
I envy every bird that flies
Into the far and clouded west;
I think of thee — I think of thee!
O, dearest! hast thou thought of me!