E'er since Casella came this morn,
Newly o'er yonder ocean borne,
Bound upward for the choir
Who purge themselves in fire,
And from that meinie he was of
Stayed backward at my cry of love,
To speak awhile with me
Of life and Tuscany,
And, parting, told us how e'er day
Was done, Dante would come this way,
With mortal feet, to find
His sweetheart, sky-enshrined,—
E'er since Casella spoke such news
My heart has lain in a golden muse,
Picturing him and her,
What starry ones they were.
And now the moon sheds its compassion
O'er the hushed mount, I try to fashion
The manner of their meeting,
Their few first words of greeting.
O well for them, with claspèd hands,
Unshamed amid the heavenly bands!
They hear no pitying pair
Of old-time lovers there
Look down and say in an undertone,
“This latest-come, who comes alone,
Was still alone on earth,
And lonely from his birth.”
Nor feel a sudden whisper mar
God's weather, “Dost thou see the scar
That spirit hideth so?
Who dealt her such a blow
“That God can hardly wipe it out?”
And answer, “She gave love, no doubt,
To one who saw not fit
To set much store by it.”