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DREAMS.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

Beneath the skies of Italy,

Where golden hours unheeded fly:

We watch the long waves rise and fall

And beat against the harbor wall;

Almost beyond the scope of eye

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We mark the white-winged shallops fly,

And catch across the dancing waves,

Stray snatches and remittent slaves

Of songs, the fishermen, away

Beyond the girdle of the bay,

Are singing as they homeward come;

We list the insects' drowsy hum,

And where the oak and olive twine

We see the clusters of the vine

Gathered by contadinas fair,

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