And Constance brought A certain Countess with her. In a glance We two, the Countess and myself, beheld A flame that joined our hands. And in a week The Countess took me on her yacht to Capri, And round the Mediterranean. No one knew, Not Constance, nor my wife, for I returned Before she came from Milan. Oh that week! That breeze that sung the port-holes, waters blue And stars at night and music; and the Countess Whose voice was like a lute of gold, who lived, Knew life, was unafraid. She heard me say "They'd never know me now." And softly murmured Smiling the while: il lupo cangia Il pelo ma non il vizio Adding, Qual matto! Something yet remains That makes you charming! Oh the feasts and wine, The songs and poems, till at last too soon We anchored in the bay of Naples. When I saw Vesuvius, then I felt again That sinking of the heart that I had known, That sickness, strange, nostalgia, from a boy, Of which a word again. But now it was Precursive of the end, the finished idyll. The Countess took my hand, with misty eyes-- They let me off and rowed me to the dock, I caught the train to Florence, magically Before I had forgotten, seemed to be Upon the yacht still, was in truth alone Amid the silence of my dining room, Supping alone--"They'd never know me now!" Later I had the fever, was delirious And saw myself receding as if backing Into a funnel toward the little end, And growing smaller as the funnel narrowed Until I was so small I held myself Within the palm's hand of my other self, Laughed like a devil, scared the nurse to death, Saying "They'd never know me now--just look!" My wife too had the fever. I awoke Out of this illness, found that she was gone, Had died a week before and for a week Had been entombed while I was raving--then If any real self of me ever was it came Back to me then. I bowed my head and wept And scanned my life back: What was that in me Which made me homesick from a boy right through This life of mine, not for my home, for something, Some place, some hand, some scene, which made me dread All partings, overwhelmed me with a grief For ended raptures, kept my brain too full Of memories, never lost, that grew until I lost myself, and seemed a thousand selves Wandering through a thousand years, how restless!