And filled the cup of Beauty to the lip.
O thou, who wast beside me when we loved
This vision of the evening and the sea;
Why art thou silent, why so far removed?
Implore of Death, ask God to set thee free.
STOPFORD A. BROOKE.
A VENETIAN NIGHT
’Tis a goodly night; the cloudy wind which blew
From the Levant hath crept into its cave,
And the broad moon has brightened. What a stillness!...