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Updated: May 18, 2025
"Babache," replied Gaston, coming and sitting on the arm of my chair, his arm about my neck, "the afternoon before I left I sat with Francezka I call her that to you, but to no other man I sat with Francezka in the Italian garden at the foot of Petrarch's statue. I had a volume of Petrarch, and read to her that sonnet from the poet's heart beginning: Sweet bird, that singest on thy airy way.
His finest work always combines these two elements, melody and elevation, "and singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest." I hope that the picture he drew for The Tree of Laughing Bells may some time be made available for all students of his work, as it was his first serious design.
"So, lady, thou hast not yet forgiven Paris? Thou weavest the ancient web, thou singest the ancient songs art thou still unkind as of old?" "Why art thou come back to taunt me?" she said, and now she spoke as if an old familiar fear and horror were laying hold of her and mastering her again, after long freedom. "Was it not enough to betray me in the semblance of my wedded lord?
Ah, twilight of evening, thy strains thou but singest To one whose deep slumbers forever must last! Do I dream? can I trust to my eye? My sight sure some vapor must cover? Or, there, did my Minna pass by My Minna and knew not her lover? On the arm of the coxcomb she crossed, Well the fan might its zephyr bestow; Herself in her vanity lost, That wanton my Minna? Ah, no!
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