“se dio ti lasci, lettor, prender frutto Di tua lezione.”
Collection:
The Garden Where There Is No Winter
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Ah, blessedness of work! the aimless mind, Left to pursue at will its fancies wild, Returns at length, like some play-wearied child, Unto its labor’s knee, and leaves behind Its little games, and learns to soothe its blind Wide longings in the sweet tranquillity Of limited tasks, whose mild...
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Three steps and I reach the door, But a whole month rolls between Since last I stood before My shut room’s simple scene. I pause at the door and shrink, My hand is at point to turn, But I stand and dimly think Of all I long for and yearn. My life leaps up to me there, The past with its...
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Flower, that I hold in my hand, Waxen and white and unwoful, Perfect with your race’s lovely perfection, Pure as the dream of a child just descended from the heavens, Chaste as the thought of the maid on whose sight first shines the glow of love’s planet, Trustful as a boy who holds the world in...
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“se dio ti lasci, lettor, prender frutto Di tua lezione.”