74
Guido Savella.
Was pleasant to his senses. With bent head
He paced the room. He looked not towards Madonna,
With eyes cast downward steadfastly, he seemed
To wrestle with wild thoughts. Thus for a space.
He paused, turned suddenly, and looked up. A cry
At his heart's threshold died. He stood transfixed.
With lips blanched white with terror.
He paced the room. He looked not towards Madonna,
With eyes cast downward steadfastly, he seemed
To wrestle with wild thoughts. Thus for a space.
He paused, turned suddenly, and looked up. A cry
At his heart's threshold died. He stood transfixed.
With lips blanched white with terror.
What stood there.
Within the columned niche? Madonna's picture
Was gone, an empty frame hung in its place!
What stood with folded hands? A mantle fell
Squarely across the brow, and dark blue folds
Trailed to the pavement!
Within the columned niche? Madonna's picture
Was gone, an empty frame hung in its place!
What stood with folded hands? A mantle fell
Squarely across the brow, and dark blue folds
Trailed to the pavement!
Softly! so! the echoes
Are listening from above! His step scarce roused them.
Nearer, with hushed heart! In the uncertain light
He thought to see it vanish, but, unchanged,
The veiled shape stood like marble. O'er his eyes
He passed his burning hand. Another step!
One more. Ah, heaven, the robe stirred on her bosom!
Now could he mark the rosy line dividing
Are listening from above! His step scarce roused them.
Nearer, with hushed heart! In the uncertain light
He thought to see it vanish, but, unchanged,
The veiled shape stood like marble. O'er his eyes
He passed his burning hand. Another step!
One more. Ah, heaven, the robe stirred on her bosom!
Now could he mark the rosy line dividing
