Purple Shadows

We stand upon the terrace, looking down

On Florence, that the sunset rays have kissed,

And that is robing in her purple mist

As the slow daylight wanes upon the town;

While her great dome, in deeper purple shown,

Seems, for a moment, built of amethyst,

Ere blending with the shadows that insist,

And with the hills that Evening makes his own.

Then out of the still city, as it looms

Dreamy and restful, suddenly there booms

The deep reverberation of a bell;

Recalling what the unrelenting year

Has swept away, of lives that were too dear,

And sounding their illimitable knell.