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FROM MONTE PINCIO 41
Vespers are ringing, through roseate air
Nebulous floating of tone-sacrifices,
Twilight in churches now broadens and rises,
Incense and word fill the evening with prayer.
Over the Sabines the flame-belt is knotted,
Shepherds’ lights through the Campagna are dotted,
Rome with her lamps dimly breaks on the sight, —
Shadowy legend from history’s night.
But to the evening’s spell
Dances the Saltarell’ ;—
Fireworks flash and play,
Mora and laughter gay ;—
Colors and tones in all thoughts are enthroning
Sagres Se
Harmony’s gracious condoning.
Lost has the light in its soundless affray,
Heaven its vaulting of dark-blue is framing,
Where from infinity deep stars are flaming,
Earth’s masses sink into vapor away.
Fleeing the darkness, the eyes seek the city,
Meet with its torches a corpse borne in pity;
These seek the night, but a flag is each light,
Waving the hope of eternity bright.
Gaily to dance and wine
Mandolins give the sign.
Monkish song, noise of streets,
Drowned by a drum’s stern beats ;—
Through all the dreaming life’s arteries flowing,
Glimpses of daylight are going.
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