How shall I thee remember
From springs of long ago,
Where in my own December
I think upon thee now?
Thou comest in such changeful shapes
That memory from itself escapes.

A winsome elf whom beauty
And love alone made wise;
Who never heard of duty,
Nor rules, nor sacrifice;
He storms me with his kisses,
And tears, and sudden blisses.

What transports of emotion
His fond breast could conceive!
What heart-breaks of devotion!
What power he had to grieve!
From Napoli the memory swells;
What welcomes, what farewells!

Aye will I thee remember!
How should I thee forget?
Like the New Year to December,
Press to my bosom yet!
Across a thousand leagues I hear
Thy " Buon Natale " in my ear.