66
Guido Savella.
And is awaked by melody and light!
Yet still as the unfolding of a flower
His being's growth; and to the passing eye,
Still Guido was unchanged. For even now,
Under the shadow of the ilex trees,
He would lie dreaming through a summer morn,
Freighting the slow clouds with his indolent fancies.
Or if Francesca with her broidery frame
Stole to his side, would idly mark the grouping
Of leaves and flowers beneath her hand, or listen,
An arm flung o'er his closed lids, while she sang
Love-songs and ballads, else from some old book
Read quaint romances, scraps of passionate verse,
That brought the fire to his lip and eye.
And even now, although no hand reined in
A steed more gallantly, he better loved
Some lone, wild path, where other steps came not,
Than the gay Corso. Now his early dreams
Lay closer to his soul, and he had striven
To give their loveliness a tangible shape;
But youth still held in leash his fiery spirit,
And with the will to do came not the power.
Yet still as the unfolding of a flower
His being's growth; and to the passing eye,
Still Guido was unchanged. For even now,
Under the shadow of the ilex trees,
He would lie dreaming through a summer morn,
Freighting the slow clouds with his indolent fancies.
Or if Francesca with her broidery frame
Stole to his side, would idly mark the grouping
Of leaves and flowers beneath her hand, or listen,
An arm flung o'er his closed lids, while she sang
Love-songs and ballads, else from some old book
Read quaint romances, scraps of passionate verse,
That brought the fire to his lip and eye.
And even now, although no hand reined in
A steed more gallantly, he better loved
Some lone, wild path, where other steps came not,
Than the gay Corso. Now his early dreams
Lay closer to his soul, and he had striven
To give their loveliness a tangible shape;
But youth still held in leash his fiery spirit,
And with the will to do came not the power.
