GIOTTO’S CAMPANILE

O pulsing heart with voice attuned To all the soul builds high, Framing in notes of love divine A drama of the sky, Across the Arno’s flowing tide The notes chime on the air, Deep as the mysteries of God And tender as a prayer. Here, where the Poet of Sorrows dwelt, Whose altar Love had built, And framed his morn in dreams so pure That knew not stain nor guilt: O Vita Nuova! Earthly Love Then changed to love Divine; Transfigured at the wedding-feast, Earth’s grapes are heavenly wine. Where cowled monk with soul of fire Struck vice athwart the face, With God’s anointed sword of truth That flashed with beams of grace. O bitter days of war and strife! Heaven’s ardor was too great; The Empire of the earth held sway And sealed with saddest fate. Methinks I hear from thy strong lips, O century-dowered bell! The story of the Whites and Blacks, As banners rose or fell; Methinks I hear an epic voice, Full of God’s love and power, With accent of an Exile sad Speaking from out thy tower!