Robert Underwood Johnson ( 2 of 2 )
They know who keep a broken tryst,
Till something from the Spring be missed
We have not read more
They know who keep a broken tryst,
Till something from the Spring be missed
We have not truly known the Spring.
In tears I tossed my coin from Trevi's edge.
A coin unsordid as a bond of love--
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In tears I tossed my coin from Trevi's edge.
A coin unsordid as a bond of love--
And, with the instinct of the homing dove,
I gave to Rome my rendezvous and pledge.
And when imperious Death
Has quenched my flame of breath,
Oh, let me join the faithful shades that throng that fount above.
