SELECTIONS IN ENGLISH POETRY

For I would have had to kill him if he'd bitten me,

the impure one............

And he hardly stirred in my hand, muffled up.

Hastily, I shook him out of the window.

And away he went! 145

Fear craven in his tail.

Great haste, and straight, almost bird straight above

the Via de' Bardi.

Above that crash-gulf of exploding whips,
Towards the Borgo San Jacopo.

And now, at evening, as he flickers over the river 5°

Dipping with petty triumphant flight, and tittering

over the sun's departure,

I believe he chirps, pipistrello, seeing me here on this

terrace writing:
There he sits, the long loud one!

But I am great than he............

I escaped him............ 55

Florence.

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