Page:Poems (IA poemstennalfr00tennrich).pdf/35

 Dreaming, she knew it was a dream Most false: he was and was not there. She woke: the babble of the stream Fell, and without the steady glare Shrank the sick olive sere and small. The riverbed was dusty-white; From the bald rock the blinding light Beat ever on the sunwhite wall. She whispered, with a stifled moan More inward than at night or morn, "Madonna, leave me not all alone, To die forgotten and live forlorn."

One dry cicala's summer song At night filled all the gallery, Backward the latticeblind she flung, And leaned upon the balcony. Ever the low wave seemed to roll Up to the coast; far on, alone In the East, lange Hesper overshone The mourning gulf, and on her soul