The only eyes in which I cared to show—
My heart beneath the borrow’d feather bleeding—
Than in the sable suit of long ago,
When heart-whole for another’s passion pleading.
She loves not Floro—loves not Lelio,
Whose quarrel sets the city’s throat agape,
And turns her reputation to reproof
With altercation of some dusky shape
Haunting the twilight underneath her roof—
Which each believes the other:—and, for me,