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ITALY'S DAUGHTER.
The hope of a better world that lies
In the fathomless depths of thy spiritual eyes;
Whose blessed light hath a language given,
That speaks unto earth of the things of heaven.
In the fathomless depths of thy spiritual eyes;
Whose blessed light hath a language given,
That speaks unto earth of the things of heaven.
ITALY'S DAUGHTER.
She stole from my heart like a wave from a fountain,
That stealeth sweet song from the heart of the mountain;
But not like that wave leaving music behind her,
That changed into rapture each hope that enshrined her;
But like a torn ship lying dead on the water
Was the heart she left desolate—Italy's daughter.
That stealeth sweet song from the heart of the mountain;
But not like that wave leaving music behind her,
That changed into rapture each hope that enshrined her;
But like a torn ship lying dead on the water
Was the heart she left desolate—Italy's daughter.
I knew that a beam had deserted life's ocean,
Which love had watched over with earnest devo-tion;
But knew not the name of the glory departed,
That left me so lonely and desolate-hearted,
Until over the dark waves a spirit-bird sought her
And then I remembered her—Italy's daughter.
Which love had watched over with earnest devo-tion;
But knew not the name of the glory departed,
That left me so lonely and desolate-hearted,
Until over the dark waves a spirit-bird sought her
And then I remembered her—Italy's daughter.
And still o'er the far waves a holy watch keeping,
Unchilled by repinings, yet chastened with weeping,
Unchilled by repinings, yet chastened with weeping,
