“se dio ti lasci, lettor, prender frutto
Di tua lezione.”
-
-
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 hands of power unrelaxing,
Flower, graceful, lovely... -
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 every deed,
And... -
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 successions wind
In pauseless waves unto the...