Fairwell, Fair Italia

That day of dread and woe has come at last,
That day of which no joy doth seem to hold.
No more upon the sunny beaches bask,
And watch the waves which crash in crystal molds.
That day of which I saw as future's time,
Yet days and years soon merged and passed away.
The kingly shrines of saints are left behind;
And castles full of might are left astray.
That day of leaving what I once held dear,
A time of parting with a piece of self.
And as the sun the call of night doth hear,
So I must leave, as does the light itself.
And though I leave this land in woe and pain,
Yet in my soul and mind for ere remains.

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