"
Vain were my words. He went, alas! he went
With all the sunshine, and I wore alone
The weary weeks out of that hateful month.
Another month I waited, nervous, fierce
With love's impatience. When that month was gone
My heart was all afire; I could not stay.
Consumed with jealous fears that wore me down
Into a fever, necklace, earrings--all
I sold, and on to Venice rushed. How long
That dreary, never-ending journey seemed!
I cursed the hills up which we slowly dragged,
The long, flat plains of Lombardy I cursed,
That kept me back from Venice.
But at last in a black gondola I swam along
The sea-built city, and my heart was big
With the glad thought that I was near to him.
Yes, gladness came upon me that soft night,
And jealousy was hushed, and hope led on
My dancing heart. In vain I strove to curb
My glad impatience--I must see him then,
At once, that very night; I could not wait
The tardy morning--'twas a year away.
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