Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MICHAEL ANGELO: VITERBO, by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Parting with friends is temporary death Last Line: A cloud of white, an incorporeal spirit! Subject(s): Colonna, Vittoria (1492-1547) | ||||||||
VITTORIA COLONNA at the convent window. VITTORIA. Parting with friends is temporary death, As all death is. We see no more their faces, Nor hear their voices, save in memory; But messages of love give us assurance That we are not forgotten. Who shall say That from the world of spirits comes no greeting, No message of remembrance? It may be The thoughts that visit us, we know not whence, Sudden as inspiration, are the whispers Of disembodied spirits, speaking to us As friends, who wait outside a prison wall, Through the barred windows speak to those within. [A pause. As quiet as the lake that lies beneath me, As quiet as the tranquil sky above me, As quiet as a heart that beats no more, This convent seems. Above, below, all peace! Silence and solitude, the soul's best friends, Are with me here, and the tumultuous world Makes no more noise than the remotest planet. [A pause. O gentle spirit, unto the third circle Of heaven among the blessed souls ascended, Who, living in the faith and dying for it, Have gone to their reward, I do not sigh For thee as being dead, but for myself That I am still alive. Turn those dear eyes, Once so benignant to me, upon mine, That open to their tears such uncontrolled And such continual issue. Still awhile Have patience; I will come to thee at last. A few more goings in and out these doors, A few more chimings of these convent bells, A few more prayers, a few more sighs and tears, And the long agony of this life will end, And I shall be with thee. If I am wanting To thy well-being, as thou art to mine, Have patience; I will come to thee at last. Ye minds that loiter in these cloister gardens, Or wander far above the city walls, Bear unto him this message, that I ever Or speak or think of him, or weep for him. By unseen hands uplifted in the light Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud Floats, with its white apparel blown abroad, And wafted up to heaven. It fades away, And melts into the air. Ah, would that I Could thus be wafted unto thee, Francesco, A cloud of white, an incorporeal spirit! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: TO VITTORIA COLONNA by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI MADRIGAL by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI SONNET: 8 by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI SONNET: 8. TO VITTORIA COLONNA by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI TO VITTORIA COLONNA by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI A BALLAD OF THE FRENCH FLEET; OCTOBER, 1746 by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A PSALM OF LIFE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BELISARIUS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |
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