STORM AT CASTELFRANCO
To shade her softness with a sharper lure. Observe
How, having done, she rests
Under the sky at peace, a paradise
Of modesty, and hides
The division she is bound to serve-as though
All Love might find his object
There. Yet shut your eyes in safety: in our descent
Trees may turn black
And singing choke the wind, but you will know us
Better as panting we take
A little hill. For have you not seen quite well,
As
we, great Jove himself
Itching to a fault, bundled in down, arched for
Gabble and hiss, a subject
Of doors, human at last a fool? 0 Love
Who walk no level of the winds'
Imagined realm, darken your face and to our use
A while, though grumbling, lend
An
indulgent light. We know, we know the ache
Survives the bluntest carnival
Though every ribbon in our infant caps play dead;
We know how soon we shall
Ape the burnt phoenix, temper the grimace
Into a smile and lean
Amiably on the reaping
will:
how soon again
You must come to this.
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