Sonnet- To Zante
Fair
isle,
that
from
the
fairest
of
all
flowers,
Thy
gentlest
of
all
gentle
names
dost
take!
How
many
memories
of
what
radiant
hours
At
sight
of
thee
and
thine
at
once
awake!
How
many
scenes
of
what
departed
bliss!
How
many
thoughts
of
what
entombed
hopes!
How
many
visions
of
a
maiden
that
is
No
more-
no
more
upon
thy
verdant
slopes!
No
more!
alas,
that
magical
sad
sound
Transforming
all!
Thy
charms
shall
please
no
more-
Thy
memory
no
more!
Accursed
ground
Henceforth
I
hold
thy
flower-enameled
shore,
O
hyacinthine
isle!
O
purple
Zante!
"Isola
d'oro!
Fior
di
Levante!"
