Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
Oh Rome! My country! City of the soul!
I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.
Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.
From the mingled strength of shade and light A new creation rises to my sight, Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow, So warm with light his blended colors glow. . . . . The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.
The busy have no time for tears.