Page:Poems Eckley.djvu/169

I laugh at your wayward fancies,
 'Tis a sigh, a breath ye hear,
But comes from no idle phantom,
 No spectre ye should fear.

For 'tis only "Barba Gianni,"
 You will hear her in the tiles,
When night creeps through the valley,
 And the moon through the vineyard smiles.

Casa Webb, Lucca.