The sword-rasp of the quick, fierce duel is dead; Again the star-crossed story has been told; The last winged word of rapture has been said; The play is played, the silent curtains fold. A thousand moons have dreamed above the pines, A thousand thousand lovers yearned apart; But still the snow sleeps on the Apennines, And always your white beauty in my heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SOLDIER LISTENS by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER THE GOLD-SEEKERS by HAMLIN GARLAND GASCOIGNE'S WOODMANSHIP by GEORGE GASCOIGNE LOVE AT SEA by THEOPHILE GAUTIER OSTRA by ELLEN FRANCES BALDWIN A TRIBUTE TO WILL ROGERS AND WILEY POST by ROSETTA THORSON BEACHLER |