Here you will find the Poem Francisca of poet Lord George Gordon Byron
Francisca walks in the shadow of night, But it is not to gaze on the heavenly light - But if she sits in her garden bower, 'Tis not for the sake of its blowing flower. She listens - but not for the nightingale - Though her ear expects as soft a tale. There winds a step through the foliage thick, And her cheek grows pale, and her heart beats quick. There whispers a voice thro' the rustling leaves; A moment more and they shall meet - 'Tis past - her lover's at her feet.
