Quietude

[O. M. Geezersnaps]

Hello. I have some thoughts. 

Quietude 

Maybe, night’s -- Perhaps leave 'maybe' on a line by itself? 
quietude
is right for us.  -- Has a mournful tone without sounding self-pitying. Sounds like the kind of calm that comes over someone when they surrender to something bigger than themselves. 

Moonlight washes
through the glass, 
bathes the grass of 
memory’s city -- Beautiful sounds. This comparison of moonlight to rain/tears is unique to me. There's something cleansing about this moon rain, watering the lawns of the dead, thus bringing new life, but also washing away memory. Sad and hopeful at the same time. This stanza is my favorite part. 

Florentine. Lawns 
of the dead
in satin bedspreads. -- Don't understand satin spreadsheets unless it's the sheen that the moonlight leaves on the grass. No matter, I like it anyway. This idea of the lush, healthy grass as the blanket of those that sleep is lovely. Reminds me of Keats' "Isabella, or the Pot of Basil."
Those also, who are here and gone,
time's odds and ends. -- I don't think this is a complete sentence. Definitely reads like an incomplete thought. 
There you live, friend, 
across in a villa from the park. -- Any particular reason you opted out of the more straightforward, "across from the park, in a villa"? Or even, "in a villa, across from a park." At any rate, this line would have more impact if you name the park and maybe a detail about why that's significant to the scene. No reason for it to walk directly across the stage and deliver no lines. 

And afterwards, -- Maybe I'm daft, but it's not clear to me what came before. The moonlight through the window already seemed like weeping, so I'm confused about the timeline. Seems to all be happening at once. Perhaps it's after thinking of the "friend"? You don't really need to have a timeline, you can just say, "tonight, the moon weeps silently" 
when the moon weeps silently, -- Could give the moon some more dimension here as well. It's been witness to much life and death, after all. It's obviously an extension of the main character -- perhaps it could whisper something. I understand that it all needs to be very hush-hush. 
my longing knows -- Nice line break here, because of course the longing can't truly know or accept, that's not in it's nature. This is the rebuttal to the title and where irony is acknowledged. 
no bounds for thee. -- I don't mind the old-timey language since it's Florence and all. City of the dead, as you seem to say. I think that the language is appropriate to the place. There's a little bit of grandiosity in labeling one's own love as one for all the ages, but who's to say it's not. This is a place of no bounds, after all...

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I have edited this poem a couple of times already. I think it's good in some places, but needs to come together better. Floating / arbitrary conjunctions etc abound right now. Thanks.

There's a lot to like here. Hope this helps.