Let those ankles never swerve 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? Oh, no--not envy, this! --Not envy, sure!--for if you gave me Leave to take or to refuse, In earnest, do you think I 'd choose That sort of new love to enslave me? Mine should have lapped me round from the beginning; As little fear of losing it as winning: Lovers grow cold, men learn to hate their wives, And only parents' love can last our lives. At eve the Son and Mother, gentle pair, Commune inside our turret: what prevents My being Luigi? While that mossy lair Of lizards through the winter-time is stirred With each to each imparting sweet intents For this new-year, as brooding bird to bird-- (For I observe of late, the evening walk Of Luigi and his mother, always ends Inside our ruined turret, where they talk, Calmer than lovers, yet more kind than friends) --Let me be cared about, kept out of harm, And schemed for, safe in love as with a charm; Let me be Luigi! If I only knew What was my mother's face--my father, too! Nay, if you come to that, best love of all Is God's; then why not have God's love befall Myself as, in the palace by the Dome, Monsignor?--who to-night will bless the home Of his dead brother; and God bless in turn That heart which beats, those eyes which mildly burn With love for all men! I, to-night at least, Would be that holy and beloved priest. Now wait!--even I already seem to share In God's love: what does New-year's hymn declare? What other meaning do these verses bear? _All service ranks the same with God: If now, as formerly he trod Paradise, his presence fills Our earth, each only as God wills Can work--God's puppets, best and worst, Are we; there is no last nor first._ _Say not "a small event!" Why "small"? Costs it more pain that this, ye call A "great event," should come to pass, Than that? Untwine me from the mass Of deeds which make up life, one deed Power shall fall short in or exceed!_ And more of it, and more of it!--oh yes-- I will pass each, and see their happiness, And envy none--being just as great, no doubt, Useful to men, and dear to God, as they! A pretty thing to care about So mightily, this single holiday! But let the sun shine! Wherefore repine? --With thee to lead me, O Day of mine, Down the grass path gray with dew, Under the pine-wood, blind with boughs, Where the swallow never flew Nor yet cicala dared carouse-- No, dared carouse! [_She enters the street._ I. MORNING _Up the Hillside, inside the Shrub-house._ LUCA'S _Wife_ OTTIMA, _and her Paramour, the German_ SEBALD.