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| O PEERLESS church of old Milan, | |
| How brightly thou com’st back to me, | |
| With all thy minarets and towers, | |
| And sculptured marbles fair to see! | |
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| With all thy airy pinnacles | 5 |
| So white against the cloudless blue; | |
| With all thy richly storied panes, | |
| And mellowed sunlight streaming through. | |
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| O lovely church of loved Milan, | |
| Can sadness with thy brightness blend? | 10 |
| Lo! moving down that high-arched aisle, | |
| Those mourners for an absent friend. | |
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| In every hand a lighted torch, | |
| Above the dead a sable pall, | |
| On every face a look that tells, | 15 |
| She was the best beloved of all. | |
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| And low and faint the funeral chant | |
| Subdued the pealing organ’s tone, | |
| As past the altars of her faith | |
| They slow and silent hear her on. | 20 |
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| O holy church of proud Milan, | |
| A simpler tomb enshrines for me | |
| The one I loved, who never stood | |
| As now I stand to gaze on thee. | |
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| Yet all I see perchance she sees, | 25 |
| And chides not the unbidden tear, | |
| That flows to think how vain the wish, | |
| My life’s companion, thou wert here! | |
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| O solemn church of gay Milan, | |
| I owe that pensive hour to thee; | 30 |
| And oft may sacred sadness dwell | |
| Within my soul to temper glee! | |
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| Those airy pinnacles that shine | |
| So white against the dark blue sky, | |
| Ascend from tranquil vaults where bones | 35 |
| Which wait the resurrection lie! | |
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