A MESSAGE FROM ITALY

THERE was a white bird lighted on the sill That sang of Italy. All day the great bands whirled along the mill And pale girls languidly Wound the long skeins that do not ever end, And nothing saw or heard, Only one heart flew back to sun and friend And freedom with the bird. Doves by the broken fountain in the square Cooed at her small brown feet. There was wide sky and love and laughter there, And the soft wind was sweet; The long days ran, like little children, free In that blue, sunny air, Life did not labor hushed and measuredly, There was not gold or care. The close heat pulsed, unsweetened by the sun, And the blind walls again Penned her to tasks unending, unbegun, Monotony and pain; But all that day her feet paced with gay will, Her child-heart circled free. There was a white dove lighted on the sill That cooed of Italy.