So all things glow and speak--the glacier speaks, The brook, the fir, Speak with their glance the selfsame words: We love you true, Ah, child, you know we love you, love you true! And he, Summer, the boy with eyes so hot and weary, Woe-worn, gives kisses More ardent ever, And will not go: But like to veils he blows his words From out his lips, His cruel words: "My greeting's parting, My coming going, In youth I die." All round they hearken And scarcely breathe (No songster sings), And shuddering run Like gleaming ray Over the mountain; All round they ponder,-- Nor speak-- Twas at the noon, At noontide hour, when first Into the mountains Summer treads, Summer, the boy with eyes so hot and weary. AUTUMN[4] 'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart! Fly away! fly away!-- The sun creeps 'gainst the hill And climbs and climbs And rests at every step. How faded grew the world! On weary, slackened strings the wind Playeth his tune. Fair Hope fled far-- He waileth after. 'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart! Fly away! fly away! O fruit of the tree, Thou tremblest, fallest? What secret whispered unto thee The Night, That icy shudders deck thy cheek, Thy cheek of purple hue? Silent art thou, nor dost reply-- Who speaketh still?-- 'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart! Fly away! fly away!-- "I am not fair,"-- So speaks the lone star-flower,-- "Yet men I love And comfort men-- Many flowers shall they behold, And stoop to me, And break me, ah!-- So that within their eyes shall gleam Remembrance swift, _Remembrance of far fairer things than I_:-- I see it--see it--and I perish so." 'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart! Fly away! fly away! CAMPO SANTO DI STAGLIENO[5] Maiden, in gentle wise You stroke your lamb's soft fleece, Yet flashing from your eyes Both light and flame ne'er cease. Creature of merry jest And favourite near and far, Pious with kindness blest, Amorosissima! What broke so soon the chain, What does your heart deplore? And who, pray, would not fain, If you loved him, adore?-- You're mute, but from your eye, The tear-drop is not far, You're mute: you'll yearn and die, Amorosissima? THE LITTLE BRIG NAMED "LITTLE ANGEL"[6] "Little Angel" call they me!-- Now a ship, but once a girl, Ah, and still too much a girl! My steering-wheel, so bright to see, But for sake of love doth whirl. "Little Angel" call they me, With hundred flags to ornament, A captain smart, on glory bent, Steers me, puffed with vanity (He himself's an ornament).