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TWO IN THE CAMPAGNA.
I WONDER do you feel to-day
As I have felt since, hand in hand, We sat down on the grass, to stray
In spirit better through the land, This morn of Rome and May?
For me, I touched a thought, I know,
Has tantalized me many times, (Like turns of thread the spiders throw
Mocking across our path) for rhymes
The yellowing fennel, run to seed
Some old tomb's ruin: yonder weed
Five beetles,-blind and green they grope Among the honey-meal: and last,
Everywhere on the grassy slope, I traced it. Hold it fast!
v. The champaign with its endless fleece
Of feathery grasses everywhere ! Silence and passion, joy and peace,
An everlasting wash of airRome's ghost since her decease.
VI. Such life here, through such lengths of hours,
Such miracles performed in play, Such primal naked forms of flowers,
Such letting nature have her way
Let us be unashamed of soul,
How is it under our control
I would that you were all to me,
You that are just so much, no more.
See with your eyes, and set my heart
At your soul's springs,—your part, my part In life, for good and ill.
No. I yearn upward, touch you close,
Then stand away. I kiss your cheek, Catch your soul's warmth,-I pluck the rose
And love it more than tongue can speakThen the good minute goes.
Already how am I so far
Out of that minute? Must I go Still like the thistle-ball, no bar,
Onward, whenever light winds blow,
Where is the thread now? Off again!
Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.
Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees,
(If our loves remain)
In an English lane,
Making love, say,–
The happier they!
With the beanflower's boon,
In a sea-side house to the farther South,
-She hopes they have not caught the felons.
(When fortune's malice
Lost her, Calais)