heart hath lain Till the rain falling on last leaves yellow Drumm'd to thee, calling southward again. Home, to me, home! 'Love, love, I come!' Ah, love, the pain! Addio, addio! ed un' altra volt' addio! La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio! A foolish rustic thing the shepherd wives In our Abruzzi croon by winter fires, Of their husbands in the plains. Regent. Gamba! Gamba. Madonna? Regent. I'd make thee my confessor. Mindest thou, By Villalago, where from Sanno's lake The stream, our Tasso, hurls it down the glen? One noon, with Lucio—ever in those days With Lucio—on a rock within the spray, I wove a ferny garland, while the boy Roamed, but returned in triumph, having trapped A bee in a bell-flower—held it to my ear, Laughing, dissembling that he feared to loose The hairy thief. So laughed we—and were still, As deep in Vallescura wound a horn, And up the pathway 'neath the dappling bough Came riding—flecked with sunshine, man and horse,— My lord, my lover; and that song, that song Upon his lips.... By Villalago, where from Sanno's lake The stream, our Tasso, hurls it down the glen? One noon, with Lucio—ever in those days With Lucio—on a rock within the spray,
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