SONNET — SPRING ON THE ALBAN HILLS

O'er the Campagna it is dim warm weather;

The Spring comes with a full heart silently,

And many thoughts; a faint flash of the sea

Divides two mists; straight falls the falling feather.

With wild Spring meanings hill and plain together

Grow pale, or just flush with a dust of flowers.

Rome in the ages, dimmed with all her towers,

Floats in the midst, a little cloud at tether.

I fain would put my hands about thy face,

Thou with thy thoughts, who art another Spring,

And draw thee to me like a mournful child.

Thou lookest on me from another place;

I touch not this day's secret, nor the thing

That in the silence makes thy sweet eyes wild.