40
THE DREAM.
Which, into marble wrought,
Asserts sublime and beautiful control,-
Charming the raptured sight,
Hushing the world in wondering delight,
Touching the fainting soul,
Fettered and cramped by sin and grief and strife,
To newer, holier life.
Asserts sublime and beautiful control,-
Charming the raptured sight,
Hushing the world in wondering delight,
Touching the fainting soul,
Fettered and cramped by sin and grief and strife,
To newer, holier life.
Palsing along the air,
A strange and sacred presence seems to fill
The studio dark and still;
Dark,— saving only where
Through the broad window, with a woudrous glow
Of golden light, unhindered in its flow,
Looks in the mellow moon,
The bright Italian moon;—
Still, save the tremor light
Which the thick vines yield to the wooing night,
And the soul-soothing tune
Breathing among the distant olive-trees,
Where bland airs sing their dreamful symphonies,
Their chants of love and June.
A strange and sacred presence seems to fill
The studio dark and still;
Dark,— saving only where
Through the broad window, with a woudrous glow
Of golden light, unhindered in its flow,
Looks in the mellow moon,
The bright Italian moon;—
Still, save the tremor light
Which the thick vines yield to the wooing night,
And the soul-soothing tune
Breathing among the distant olive-trees,
Where bland airs sing their dreamful symphonies,
Their chants of love and June.
