Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Italy: Vols. XI–XIII. 1876–79.



By Frances Anne Kemble (1809–1893)

NIGHT in her dark array

Steals o’er the ocean,

And with departed day

Hushed seems its motion.

Slowly o’er yon blue coast

Onward she ’s treading,

Till its dark line is lost,

’Neath her veil spreading.

The bark on the rippling deep

Hath found a pillow,

And the pale moonbeams sleep

On the green billow.

Bound by her emerald zone

Venice is lying,

And round her marble crown

Night-winds are sighing.

From the high lattice now

Bright eyes are gleaming,

That seem on night’s dark brow,

Brighter stars beaming.

Now o’er the blue lagune

Light barks are dancing,

And ’neath the silver moon

Swift oars are glancing.

Strains from the mandolin

Steal o’er the water,

Echo replies between

To mirth and laughter.

O’er the wave seen afar

Brilliantly shining,

Gleams like a fallen star

Venice reclining.