She is still, she is cold On the bridal couch, One step to the white deathbed, And one to the bier, And one to the charnel--and one, oh where? _210 The dark arrow fled In the noon. Ere the sun through heaven once more has rolled, The rats in her heart Will have made their nest, _215 And the worms be alive in her golden hair, While the Spirit that guides the sun, Sits throned in his flaming chair, She shall sleep. NOTES: 22 Was]Were cj. Rossetti.old 26 ever 1824; even editions 1839. _37 Bitter editions 1839; Better 1824. _63 wanting in 1824. _103 quiet rest cj. A.C. Bradley; quiet and rest 1824. _129 winds]lands cj. Forman; waves, sands or strands cj. Rossetti. _167 On]In cj. Rossetti. *** EVENING: PONTE AL MARE, PISA [Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a draft amongst the Boscombe manuscripts.] 1. The sun is set; the swallows are asleep; The bats are flitting fast in the gray air; The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep, And evening's breath, wandering here and there Over the quivering surface of the stream, _5 Wakes not one ripple from its summer dream. 2. There is no dew on the dry grass to-night, Nor damp within the shadow of the trees; The wind is intermitting, dry, and light; And in the inconstant motion of the breeze _10 The dust and straws are driven up and down, And whirled about the pavement of the town. 3. Within the surface of the fleeting river The wrinkled image of the city lay, Immovably unquiet, and forever _15 It trembles, but it never fades away; Go to the... You, being changed, will find it then as now. 4. The chasm in which the sun has sunk is shut By darkest barriers of cinereous cloud, _20 Like mountain over mountain huddled--but Growing and moving upwards in a crowd, And over it a space of watery blue, Which the keen evening star is shining through.. NOTES: _6 summer 1839, 2nd edition; silent 1824, 1839, 1st edition. _20 cinereous Boscombe manuscript; enormous editions 1824, 1839. *** THE BOAT ON THE SERCHIO. [Published in part (lines 1-61, 88-118) by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824; revised and enlarged by Rossetti, "Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1870.] Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream, Its sails are folded like thoughts in a dream, The helm sways idly, hither and thither; Dominic, the boatman, has brought the mast, And the oars, and the sails; but 'tis sleeping fast, _5 Like a beast, unconscious of its tether.