NIGHT on the Adriatic! Night! No sound from the receding shore,- Or save when yon high campanile * * * * The domes suspended in the sky Swim all above me broad and fair; And in the wave their shadows lie,Twin phantoms of the sea and air. O'er all the scene a halo plays, Slow fading, but how lovely yet; Oft in my bright and boyish hours They rose along my native stream, They charm'd the lakelet in the glen; But in this hour the waking dream More frail and dreamlike seems than then. A matchless scene, a matchless night, But here, alas! you hark in vain,— The blacken'd barges swim the tide. The harp which Tasso loved to wake Hangs on the willow where it sleeps; And while the light strings sigh or break, Pale Venice by the water weeps. FROM GOLD TO GRAY, 81 From Gold to Gray. GOLDEN curls, profusely shed Types of Time, that ripples now What are ye, dark waving bands, |