76
Guido Savella.
Dwell twain alone, a brother and a sister.
These hold no revels and receive no guest.
One is a man with vacant, wandering eyes,
Whose face is like a boy's; his hair's linked rings
Fall to his bosom; one, calm-browed and pale,
A woman on whose laughter-moulded lip
Joy lies asleep. Her life seems blent with his.
She hath no thought but for her mute companion.
And if he walks, her shoulder is his prop;
If he would sleep, she charms his weary lids
With singing, or, reclining at his side,
Under the ilex boughs, reads scraps of song
Whose musical rhymes are pleasant to his ear,
Their sense, alas, unheeded! And, the while,
He will beat slow time with his hand, or echo
Her low words softly, as a child repeats
Its teacher's accents. His is not the gloom
That blinds a common mind. His soul shines forth
Like starlight o'er the ruins of a Rome;
Like a pale moon through tempests, sending gleams
Over the waste of madness, and still feebly
Ruling its tides. Still, nature hath a charm
These hold no revels and receive no guest.
One is a man with vacant, wandering eyes,
Whose face is like a boy's; his hair's linked rings
Fall to his bosom; one, calm-browed and pale,
A woman on whose laughter-moulded lip
Joy lies asleep. Her life seems blent with his.
She hath no thought but for her mute companion.
And if he walks, her shoulder is his prop;
If he would sleep, she charms his weary lids
With singing, or, reclining at his side,
Under the ilex boughs, reads scraps of song
Whose musical rhymes are pleasant to his ear,
Their sense, alas, unheeded! And, the while,
He will beat slow time with his hand, or echo
Her low words softly, as a child repeats
Its teacher's accents. His is not the gloom
That blinds a common mind. His soul shines forth
Like starlight o'er the ruins of a Rome;
Like a pale moon through tempests, sending gleams
Over the waste of madness, and still feebly
Ruling its tides. Still, nature hath a charm
