Thou standest here—the gentle-hearted—
Amid the shades of bards departed.
I see before thee fade away
Their garlands of immortal bay,
And turn from Petrarch’s passion-glances
To my own dearer heart-romances.”
“A single thought of thee effaced
The fair Italian dream I chased;
For the true clime of song and sun
Lies in the heart which mine hath won.”