Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Italy: Vols. XI–XIII. 1876–79. | | | | Verona | | The Garden Scene | | William Shakespeare (1564–1616) |
| |
HE jests at scars that never felt a wound.— | |
| But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! | |
| It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!— | |
| Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, | |
| Who is already sick and pale with grief, | 5 |
| That thou her maid art far more fair than she: | |
| Be not her maid, since she is envious: | |
| Her vestal livery is but sick and green, | |
| And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.— | |
| It is my lady; O, it is my love: | 10 |
| O, that she knew she were!— | |
| She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that? | |
| Her eye discourses, I will answer it. | |
| I am too bold, ’t is not to me she speaks: | |
| Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, | 15 |
| Having some business, do entreat her eyes | |
| To twinkle in their spheres till they return. | |
| What if her eyes were there, they in her head: | |
| The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, | |
| As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven | 20 |
| Would through the airy region stream so bright, | |
| That birds would sing, and think it were not night. | |
| See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! | |
| O, that I were a glove upon that hand, | |
| That I might touch that cheek! | 25 | | | |
|
|
