Is that young Innocent, on whom all gaze?
Nor conscious they the while of choral strain;
Could I command a Guido’s magic power,
Enthusiast grown, I’d catch thy vivid glow—
Serene, unsullied child of sun and shower!
Still on the parent stem allowed to blow.
Vain, worse than vain, the Bard who’d boldly try,
In his most brilliant page or loftiest lay,
Choice how he may be, to depict the eye,
The lovely eye, of that sweet smiling fay!