Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/242

228 Now ’t was nigh vespers, and my suit had met With curt refusal, sharp rebuff, and gibes. Praised be the saints! for every drop of gall In that day s brimming cup, I have upheld A poisoned beaker to another’s lips. Many a one hath the Ribera taught&quot; To fare a vagabond through alien streets; A god unrecognized midst churls and clowns, With kindled soul aflame, and body faint For lack of bread. Domenichino knows, And Gessi, Guido, Annibal Caracci

Dear father, calm yourself. You had begun To tell me how you saw my mother first.

True, I forgot it not. Why, I am calm; The old man now can well be grave and cold, Or laugh at his own youth’s indignities, Past a long lifetime back. T was vespers hour, Or nigh it, when I reached her father’s door. Kind was his greeting, the first cordial words I heard in Naples ; but I took small heed Of speech or tone, for all my sense was rapt In wonder at the angel by his side Who smiled upon me. Large, clear eyes that held The very soul of sunlight in their depths; Low, pure, pale brow, with masses of black hair