See! Up the hillside yonder, through the morning, Someone shall love me, as the world calls love; 115 I am no less than Ottima, take warning! The gardens, and the great stone house above, And other house for shrubs, all glass in front, Are mine; where Sebald steals, as he is wont, To court me, while old Luca yet reposes; 120 And therefore, till the shrub-house door uncloses, I--what now?--give abundant cause for prate About me--Ottima, I mean--of late, Too bold, too confident she'll still face down The spitefullest of talkers in our town. 125 How we talk in the little town below! But love, love, love--there's better love, I know! This foolish love was only day's first offer; I choose my next love to defy the scoffer; For do not our Bride and Bridegroom sally 130 Out of Possagno church at noon? Their house looks over Orcana valley-- Why should not I be the bride as soon As Ottima? For I saw, beside, Arrive last night that little bride-- 135 Saw, if you call it seeing her, one flash Of the pale snow-pure cheek and black bright tresses, Blacker than all except the black eyelash; I wonder she contrives those lids no dresses! So strict was she, the veil 140 Should cover close her pale Pure cheeks--a bride to look at and scarce touch, Scarce touch, remember, Jules! For are not such Used to be tended, flower-like, every feature, As if one's breath would fray the lily of a creature? 145 A soft and easy life these ladies lead! Whiteness in us were wonderful indeed. Oh, save that brow its virgin dimness, Keep that foot its lady primness, Let those ankles never swerve 150 From their exquisite reserve, Yet have to trip along the streets like me, All but naked to the knee! How will she ever grant her Jules a bliss So startling as her real first infant kiss? 155 Oh, no--not envy, this!