RAVELLO A Recollection of the Garden in which Wagner composed “Parzival”

Words glimmering like candles in the dusk You tell your golden tale of Italy,— Ravello and its starlit, tranquil sea Among massed trees sleep-hung with jewelled fruit; Antiquity against a shadowed sky, And everywhere old gardens where men loved So long ago, and the moon rose on vows And thirsty human lips aching to meet; And the moon set on darkling ivory-petalled rows Of lilies and on hands dim with loneliness:— Below, Amalfi’s campanile plays Its even-song, full chant and antiphon, A wish, a hope, a call from star to star. O, Compassionate One, night-long with you I hark The travelling of that music lost in space, The echoing of those faithful feet of men, And touch the blurred chalcedony of tears, And breathe those candle-lighted thoughts, faint musk Of old days vanished in silence now! Night-long I dream your face pressed close to mine Is lily of Ravello in its sleep, Touched with some ancient sorrow gardens keep,— An ivory-petalled dream whose ghostly passions shine Like fingers in the dark struggling with fears:— O, set your love for me, my Own, my Sweet, The whiteness of your breast and brow aglow With God, like candleshine before my feet!