Youth in the heart, youth mirrored on the brow.
The moon, uprising in the cloudless skies,
With silver fret-work flooded her, and now
Her smile became an angel’s smile; she sang,
Seeing her image shining in mine eyes.
Daughter of sorrow, Harmony! Harmony!
Sweet speech for love by Nature set apart!
To us thou camest from Italy—to her
From Heaven. Sweet language of the heart,