Simples

O bella bionda,
Sei come l'onda!

Of cool sweet dew and radiance mild
The moon a web of silence weaves
In the still garden where a child
Gathers the simple salad leaves.
 
A moon-dew stars her hanging hair,
And moonlight kisses her young brow;
And, gathering, she sings an air:
"Fair as the wave is, fair, art thou!"
 
Be mine, I pray, a waxen ear
To shield me from her childish croon,
And mine a shielded heart for her
Who gathers simples of the moon.

Source: Poetry (May 1917)