the cenci's dream.
81
My Rocco, he died, as we know;—I remember, I shuddered,
And gasped, as if heaven had drawn all its breath in, for horror.
But then he was safe, he and Cristo, no worse could befall them;
And together they lay, with the twilight upon them, the darkness
Of earth yet unpassed, and white dawnings of peace. But somehow
My Rocco is with me, is here—comes hitherto measure
An hour for once by: its sunshine.—And, darling, to wander
With thee is so good! to glide o'er the sunset Campagna,
As if we had wings; and- we have,—and gaze in the fire-well
That sucks back the broad day to its heart—and watch in returning
And gasped, as if heaven had drawn all its breath in, for horror.
But then he was safe, he and Cristo, no worse could befall them;
And together they lay, with the twilight upon them, the darkness
Of earth yet unpassed, and white dawnings of peace. But somehow
My Rocco is with me, is here—comes hitherto measure
An hour for once by: its sunshine.—And, darling, to wander
With thee is so good! to glide o'er the sunset Campagna,
As if we had wings; and- we have,—and gaze in the fire-well
That sucks back the broad day to its heart—and watch in returning
