Be my companion under cool arcades That frame some drowsy street and dazzling square Beyond whose flowers and palm-tree promenades White belfries burn in the blue tropic air.
Lie near me in dim forests where the croon Of wood-doves sounds and moss-banked water flows,
Or musing late till the midsummer moon Breaks through some ruined abbey's empty rose.
Sweetest of those to-day whose pious hands Tend the sequestered altar of Romance,
Where fewer offerings burn, and fewer kneel,
Pour there your passionate beauty on my heart,
And, gladdening such solitudes, impart How sweet the fellowship of those who feel!
