Lloyd Mifflin

To an Old Venetian Wine-Glass

DAUGHTER of Venice, fairer than the moon!
From thy dark casement leaning, half divine,
And to the lutes of love that low repine
Across the midnight of the hushed lagoon
Listening with languor in a dreamful swoon--
On such a night as this thou didst entwine
Thy lily fingers round this glass of wine,
And clasped thy climbing lover--none too soon!
Thy lover left, but ere he left thy room
From this he drank, his warm lips at the brim;
Thou kissed it as he vanished in the gloom;
That kiss, because of thy true love for him--
Long, long ago, when thou wast in thy bloom,--
Hath left it ever rosy round the rim!