Written in a Volume of the Comtesse de Noailles
Be my companion under cool arcadesThat frame some drowsy street and dazzling squareBeyond whose flowers and palm-tree promenadesWhite belfries burn in the blue tropic air.Lie near me in dim forests where the croonOf wood-doves sounds and moss-banked water flows,Or musing late till the midsummer moonBreaks through some ruined abbey’s empty rose.Sweetest of those to-day whose pious handsTend the sequestered altar of Romance,Where fewer offerings burn, and fewer kneel,Pour there your passionate beauty on my heart,And, gladdening such solitudes, impartHow sweet the fellowship of those who feel!