Volume 8 — Sonnet (XIII.) From The Vita Nuova Of Dante Alighieri.

So gentle seems my lady and so pure When she greets any one, that scarce the eye Such modesty and brightness can endure, And the tongue, trembling, falters in reply. She hears; but heeds not, people praise her worth— Some in their speech, and many with a pen— But meekly moves, as if sent down to earth To show another miracle to men! And such a pleasure from her presence grows On him who gazeth, while she passeth by— A sense of sweetness that no mortal knows Who hath not felt it—that the soul's repose Is woke to worship, and a spirit flows Forth from her face that seems to whisper, "Sigh!" T. W. P.