I

The house thro' all the level shines,

Close-latticed to the brooding heat,

      And silent in its dusty vines:

A faint-blue ridge upon the right,

      An empty river-bed before,

      And shallows on a distant shore,

In glaring sand and inlets bright.

            But "Ave Mary," made she moan,

                  And "Ave Mary," night and morn,

            And "Ah," she sang, "to be all alone,

                  To live forgotten, and love forlorn."