Explore "Our own Set" by Ossip Schubin on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Bright May -- the sweetest month of Spring; / The trees and fields with flowers are strown -- / Dear Heart, to thee Life's May I bring; / Take it and keep it for thine own -- / Nay -- draw the knife! -- I will not start, / Pierce if thou wilt, my willing breast. / There thou shalt find my faithful heart / Whose truth in death shall stand confessed."
These words, sung in the Roman dialect to a very simple air, came quavering out of the open window of the drawing-room of the Sterzls' palazetto as Sempaly passed by it that evening; he had gone out to pay some visits, to divert his mind, and though his way did not take him along the side street in which the palazetto stood, he had not been able to resist the temptation to make a detour. It was a mild evening and the tones floated down like an invitation; he recognized Zinka's voice as she sang one of the melancholy _Stornelli_ in which the peasants of the Campagna give utterance to their loves. It ceased, and he was just moving away, when another even sweeter and more piercing lament broke the warm silence.