Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922.
FiorentinaErnest Myers (18441921)
O
And surely surely hearts are true;
Be witness, balm of April air,
And boundless depth of midnight blue.
That seem’d to gather round our way,
Is vanish’d as the last-year snow
That hid the hills of Fesole.
O love, and makes for thee and me
An Eden ’mid the bay-leaf walls,
The fragrant bowers of Boboli.
The golden hours we fear’d would die!
The very flame that threaten’d Love
Has lent us light to see him by.