Beneath the vino-clad caves
Whose shadows fall before
Under the lilae's tremulous leaves
Thy lowly cottage door
Within thy snowy clasped hand
The purple flowers it bore
Last eve In dreams, I saw thee stand
Most beautiful Isadorel
Isadore
Like music heard in dreams
Like strains of harps unknown
Audible as the volce of streams
Of birds for ever Bown
That murmur in some leafy dell
I hear thy gentlest tone
And Stlence cometh with her spell
My love to thee alone!
Isadore
