E. W. Longfellow- Summer
No sound of wheels or hoof beat breaks
The silence of the summer day.
As by the loveliest of all lakes
I while the idle hours away.
I pace the leafy colonnade.
Where level branches of the plane
Above me waves a roof of shade
Impervious to the sun or rain.
At times a sudden rush of air
Flutters, the lazy leaves o erhead
And gleams of sunshine toss and flare
Like torches down the path I tread.
By Sommarivas garden gate
I make the marble stairs my seat,
and hear the water as I wait
lapping the steps beneath my feet.
The undulation sinks and swell
Along the stony parapets,
and far away the floating bells
tinkle upon the fishers nets,
Silent and slow by tower and town
The freightened barges come and go,
their pendent shadows gliding down
by town and tower submerged below
The hills sweep upward from the shore
With Villas scattered one by one,
upon their wooded spurs, and lower
Bellagio blazing in the sun.
And dimly seen a tangled mass
Of walls and woods of light and shade,
stands beckoning up the Stelvio Pass
Varenna with its white cascade.
I ask myself is this a dream?
Will it all vanish into air?
Is there a land of such supreme
And perfect beauty anywhere?
Sweet vision! Do not fade away;
linger until my heart shall take
into itself the summer day,
and all the beauty of the lake.
Linger until upon my brain
Is stamped an image of the scene;
then fade into the air again,
and be as if thou hadst not been.
CHARTREUSE DE PARMA" description di GRIANTE
is noble and delicate, everything speaks of love,
nothing reminds the ugliness of civilisation.
The villages placed halfway up the hills are sheltered
by trees, and above the tops of the trees
rises the fine architecture of their slender bell
towers. If, from time to time, some small fields,
fifty yard wide, interrupt the "bouquets"
of chestnut and cherry wild trees, the satisfied
eye sees the plants growing happier and more vigorous
then anywhere else. Beyond these hills, which
host some hermitages where everyone would like
to live, the enchanted eyes discover the picks
of the Alps, always covered with snow, and their
majestic austerity reminds the strife of life,
and this increases the voluptuousness of the present
The imagination is moved by the far away twinkling
of a bell, coming from some small village hidden
under the trees; and the sounds brought by the
water that sweeten them, assume the colour of
soft melancholy and meekness that seems to tell
men:" life passes by quickly, do not be reluctant
towards the happiness that comes to you, reach
out and enjoy it." The language of these
enchanting places, that have no equal in the world,
gave back to the Countess' heart the feelings
of when she was sixteen.