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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
IN TUSCANY: ANITA, by CORA RANDALL FABBRI
First Line: A broad green sea the vineyard lay
Last Line: Alas, anita!
First Line: A broad green sea the vineyard lay
Last Line: Alas, anita!
A BROAD green sea the vineyard lay;
He saw her pass along that way—
The fair Anita
A little kerchief on her head;
A little mouth so small, so red,
Had gay Anita.
Plaiting the straw and singing sweet,
He saw her with her bare brown feet—
The fair Anita.
"Oh, little joy of Spring," he said,
And kissed the mouth so small, so red,
Of gay Anita.
But when the ripened grapes had come
To stain the vines like purple foam
(Ah, poor Anita!)
He was not there; she did not sing;
And all the joy had fled from Spring
For fair Anita.
Plaiting the straw with sweet lips dumb,
She waits, and yet he does not come—
Alas, Anita!
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