42
The Artist's Search for Beauty.
Underneath thy careless eyes,
Beauty, sweet, unfolding, lies.
Dost thou see my eyelids yet
Stained with saddest tears, are wet?
Beauty nobler yet thou losest
When unworthy life thou choosest."
Beauty, sweet, unfolding, lies.
Dost thou see my eyelids yet
Stained with saddest tears, are wet?
Beauty nobler yet thou losest
When unworthy life thou choosest."
Then the shape, in air dissolving,
Faded from his sight away,
And the room returned to darkness,
Till the dawning of the day.
Faded from his sight away,
And the room returned to darkness,
Till the dawning of the day.
Francesco woke in the gray light of morn,
The midnight vision filling all his mind
With thought of Angela, his spirit guest,
Of beauty wondrous, save those sad-stained eyes.
Ah, heavenly visitant, could he but catch
That look unearthly while the phantom fair
Yet lingered with him, then forevermore
Those lineaments divine of Angela
And Italy in that one form would be
Imprisoned, semblance sweet of all he loved.
His chisel then he seized with eager haste,
To catch the evanescent image fair.
The midnight vision filling all his mind
With thought of Angela, his spirit guest,
Of beauty wondrous, save those sad-stained eyes.
Ah, heavenly visitant, could he but catch
That look unearthly while the phantom fair
Yet lingered with him, then forevermore
Those lineaments divine of Angela
And Italy in that one form would be
Imprisoned, semblance sweet of all he loved.
His chisel then he seized with eager haste,
To catch the evanescent image fair.
