The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1900-07-15
ACN ITALiENS.
cat the Italian Opera.l

ATN ITALiENS.
cat the Italian Opera.)
AT Paris it Was. az the opera there:
And she looked like queen in a book
that night.
With the wreath Of pearl in her raven hair
And the brooch on her breast. SO bright
OF all the operas that Verdi wrote.
The best. 10 my taste. is the "Trovatore'
| Aud Mario can soothe with u tenor note
| The souls in pCrgatory.
The moon on the tower slept soft as snow:
And who was not thrilled in the strangest
| way.
As We heard him sing. while the gas burned
| low.
Non ii scordar III me?"
The Emperor there. in his box of state.
Looked grave. rs Il he had Just then seen
The red flag wave from the city gate.
Where his eagles in bronze had been.
| The Empress. too. had a tear I'm her eye.
You'd have said that her fancy had gone
| back again.
For one moment. under the old blue sky,
| To the old glad life N Spain.
| Well. there in our front-row box We sat
| Together. my bride-betrothed and /:
| Ny gaze was fixed ON my opera hat
| And hers ON the stage hard by.
And both We're silent. and both were sad:
| Like queen she lrlLed her fun white
| arm.
With that regal. indoient air she had,
| - confident Of her charm.
have not q doubt she vas thinking then
OF her former lord. good soul that he was.
Who died the richest ana prouGest OF men,
The Marquis OF carabas
hope that. 10 get TO the kingdom of heaven
Through needles eye he had not u
pass:
] wish him well for the jointure given
To my lady of Carabas
Meanwhile / was thinking Of my first love.
As l had not been thinking Of auSht for
years.
TIL over my eyes there began 10 move
Something that felt like tears
thought OF the dress that she wore last
time.
When We stood meath the cypress trees
together.
In that lost land. in that soft cline.
In the crimson evening weather;
OF that muslin dress ffor the eve was hotl.
And her warm white neck i'll its golden
chain.
And her fun. soft hair. just tied in a knot
And falling loose again:
And the jasmine flower in her fair young
breast:
Oh. the faint. sweet smell Of that jasmine
flower
And the one bird singing alone TO his nest.
And the one star over tile tower
thought OF orr little quar-els and strife.
And the letter that brought me back my
ring.
And it all seemed then. in the waste of life.
such a very little thing
For thought of her grave below the hill
Which the sentinel cypress tree stands
And l thought 81. were she only liv-
ing still.
How l could forgive her and love her"
And I swear. as thought OF her thus. in
that hour.
And of how. after all old things are best,
That | smelt the smell Of tina; Jasmine
flower
Which she used to wear in her breast
It smelt so faint. and il smeIt so svee,
II make me creep. and it made me cold. |
Like the scent that steals from the crum- |
bling sheet |
When a mummy is half unrolled.
And turned and hooked She was sitting |
there
In dim box. over tie stage: and drest
In that muslin dress, with that fun soft |
naif.
And that Jasmine in her breast! ,
! was here. and she was there.
And the glittering horseshoe curved be- |
tween
From my bride-be;rothed. with her raven |
hair.
And her sumptuous. scornful mien.
To my early love with her eyes dowucast,
And over her primrose face the shade
III hn
Pasp
There was but one step TO be made.
To my early love from INV future bride
One moment looked. Then / stole 10 the
door,
I traversed the passage: and down at her
side
was sitting. moment more.
My thinking Of her. or the music's strain.
Or something which never will be OK
prest.
Had brought her back from the grave
again.
With the jasmine in her breast.
She is not dead. and she is not wed.
But she loves me now. and she loved me
And the very first word that her sweet
lips said
My heart grew youthful again.
..
she Is wealthy. and young, and hand |
some still,
And but for her . we'll. we'll let that
pass
She may marry whomever she will.
But will marry my own first love.
Win her primrose face: for old things |
are best
And the flower in her bosom, l prize # |
above
The brooch in my lady's breast.
me world is filed with folly and sin.
Ana Love must cling where IL can 1 say. |
For Beauty is easy enough to win,
But one isn't loved every day
And think. in the lives of most women and
men, |
Ihere's moment when all would co |
smooth and even
II only the dead could find out when
To come back and be forgiven.
But Oh The smell of that Jasmine eovor, |
ana on. that music! and oh. the way
mat voice rang out from the doniou tower
Non ii scordar di me-
Non ii scordar di me,
owen Meredith.
All the ten-to-oners We're in the rear and
! cark Morse. which had never been ,hourbt ,
d. and which the careless ST Jarnas "a