Written In A Volume Of The Comtesse De Noailles

Be my companion under cool arcades

That frame some drowsy street and dazzling square

Beyond whose flowers and palm-tree promenades

White belfries burn in the blue tropic air.

Lie near me in dim forests where the croon

Of wood-doves sounds and moss-banked water flows,

Or musing late till the midsummer moon

Breaks through some ruined abbey's empty rose.

Sweetest of those to-day whose pious hands

Tend the sequestered altar of Romance,

Where fewer offerings burn, and fewer kneel,

Pour there your passionate beauty on my heart,

And, gladdening such solitudes, impart

How sweet the fellowship of those who feel!