MIDNIGHT ON THE PRATO-FIORITO.(BAGNI DI LUCCA.)
IGHT clasped the diamond hours in her arms,And pale the moon-beams rippled down the seaOf Heaven, and faintly touched with silvery palmsOur shadowy pathway over hill and lea.Night hung her dewy mantle on the air,The leaves hung heavy with the drops of night;A silence sweet and solemn reigned, save whereThe "Lima" murmured in her dreamy light.
The night-wind whispered through the garnered sheaves,Telling her secret, ere she died away,Folding to rest and sleep the quivering leaves,And half-shut buds, that fringed our mountain way.
