Poem – To Vernon Lee 

On Bellosguardo, when the year was young,
We wandered, seeking for the daffodil

And dark anemone, whose purples fill

The peasant’s plot, between the corn-shoots sprung.
Over the grey, low wall the olive flung

Her deeper greyness ; far off, hill on hill

Sloped to the sky, which, pearly-pale and still,

Above the large and luminous landscape hung.
A snowy blackthorn flowered beyond my reach;

You broke a branch and gave it to me there;

I found for you a scarlet blossom rare.
Thereby ran on of Art and Life our speech;

And of the gifts the gods had given to each–

Hope unto you, and unto me Despair.