Poems (Blagden)/The invitation

by Isa Blagden

THE INVITATION.

If I called thee, wouldst thou come,
 Love, across the Northern Sea,
From thy dark and rugged home
 Back to Italy and me?

Here the sky is blue, intense;
 Here the Arno's lingering feet
Blend, with Earth's glad affluence,
 Sounds and sighs of summer sweet.

Here the fireflies wing their flight,
 Pulsing to the magic tune
Murmured every breathless night
 Through our warm, delicious June.

Here the roses in sweet scorn
 Smile above the rugged wall;
Here wave fields of yellow corn
 Lit by poppies, red and tall.

Music here from soft-voiced birds,
 Wild, pathetic, eager song,
Plaintive as a lute's low chords,
 Piercing as a clarion strong.

Here are vines which clasp and fold
 Rude, bare boughs with tendrils fine;
Here are fruits of orient gold,
 Fountains which like rainbows shine.

Melody and fragrance here,
 Opal tints on hill and plain,
Lithe green reeds with lited spear,
 Purple grapes 'mid ripening grain.

Beauty's fairest home is here,
 Earth baptised in light and dew.
Haste, the summer draweth near!
 Haste, where souls are born anew.
  I have called thee, thou wilt come.