How shall I bid you good--bye,
Dear, without tears?
Only once in the years,
The idle vanishing years,
...
Glad bird, I do bewail thee,
Thy song it was so sweet
That Earth looked up to hail thee
...
Giacinta sat upon the garden wall
Among the autumn lilies, and let fall
Their crimson petals on her lover's head,
...
Here therefore ends my sad soul's pilgrimage,
In tears for sin and half--redeemed desire.
She was unworthy her high martyr's rage,
...
I had made my round, as yet with little gain
Of undiscovered good in that gay place.
I had sought my share of pleasure, but in vain.
...
There is one I know. I see her sometimes pass
In the morning streets upon her way to Mass,
A calm sweet woman with unearthly eyes.
...
Love, love, in vain
We count the days of Spring.
Lost is all love's pain,
Lost the songs we sing.
...
It was a booth no larger than the rest,
No loftier fashioned and no more sublime,
As poor a shrine as ever youth possessed
...
Say what you will, there is not in the world
A nobler sight than from this upper Down.
No rugged landscape here, no beauty hurled
...
I stopped, I listened, and I entered in,
With half--a--dozen more, that sight to see.
``The Booth of Beauty,'' 'twas a name of sin
...