Tutto È Sciolto
A birdless heaven, seadusk, one lone star
by James Joyce
Piercing the west,
As thou, fond heart, love's time, so faint, so far,
The clear young eyes' soft look, the candid brow,
The fragrant hair,
Falling as through the silence falleth now
Dusk of the air.
Why then, remembering those shy
Sweet lures, repine
When the dear love she yielded with a sigh
Was all but thine?