BUONARROTI’S “DAWN”

Spirit of twilight chill and upper air Stretched desolate upon the rack of morn; Thou hooded grief from mountain marble torn, Gazing sad-lidded on the sky’s despair, While the grey stars, like tears, descend forlorn; Earth’s broken heart and man’s unsleeping care Wait on thy pillow, crying to be borne— The only burden thou shalt ever bear. No infant hope may dream on thy deep breast, No little lip may soothe with infant might Thy mouth’s immortal woe; for thee, oppressed, Dawn dim epiphanies beyond all light, Where man’s long agony and cry for rest But torture dayspring into darker night.