72
Guido Savella.
Her veiled eyes were cast down, and at her feet
A contadino, stretched upon the grass,
Pillowed his head upon his folded arms.
With ripe lips dropped apart, Francesca gazed
Smiling upon her beauty's counterpart;
Then with a sudden impulse, from the peasant
Whose lids were darkly outlined on her cheek,
Turned to the pictured Virgin, and first saw
How like her own Madonna's features were!
She started, and with finger laid on lip,
Pondered a space; then, pausing not to question
If there were aught irreverent in her thought,
Stepped upon tiptoe through the room, and vanished.
A contadino, stretched upon the grass,
Pillowed his head upon his folded arms.
With ripe lips dropped apart, Francesca gazed
Smiling upon her beauty's counterpart;
Then with a sudden impulse, from the peasant
Whose lids were darkly outlined on her cheek,
Turned to the pictured Virgin, and first saw
How like her own Madonna's features were!
She started, and with finger laid on lip,
Pondered a space; then, pausing not to question
If there were aught irreverent in her thought,
Stepped upon tiptoe through the room, and vanished.
The curtains were drawn close when Guido entered.
Through their large flutes the tempered light came in
As through a wave. Arch, wall, and glassy column
Stood like translucent amber. Guido paused,
Besting upon the threshold. He had risen,
That morn to a new being; to the sound
Of rhythms sweeter than the mirth of brooks;
To the low voice of songs that thrilled for flight,
Through their large flutes the tempered light came in
As through a wave. Arch, wall, and glassy column
Stood like translucent amber. Guido paused,
Besting upon the threshold. He had risen,
That morn to a new being; to the sound
Of rhythms sweeter than the mirth of brooks;
To the low voice of songs that thrilled for flight,
