And out again I curve and flow Yes, men may come and go; and these are gone, Of Brunelleschi ; 1 sleeps in peace and he, So Lawrence Aylmer, seated on a style In the long hedge, and rolling in his mind Old waifs of rhyme, and bowing o'er the brook A tonsured head in middle age forlorn, Mused, and was mute. On a sudden a low breath Of tender air made tremble in the hedge 1 Brunelleschi.] The architect of the Duomo of Florence, who died in 1444, before his great work was completed. Of this beautiful cupola Michael Angelo said, "Come te non voglio, meglio di te non posso. Curiously enough, the story about the egg, usually attributed to Columbus, is told of Brunelleschi, who when asked to exhibit a model of his work, which he had boasted he would erect without the aid of the usual mechanical devices of scaffolding or a mould of earth, took an egg, saying, "This is the form of my dome, can you tell me how it is to be kept upright?" He then broke off the bottom of the egg, when everyone exclaimed, "I could have done that." "You should have done it, then," said Brunelleschi, with a satirical smile; adding, "and this is just what you would have said had I shown you my model for the dome." 2 Converse seasons.] At the Antipodes. 3 Waifs.] Connected with "waive " and "waft," something flung loosely about. 4 Tonsured.] From Latin tondere, to shave, generally said of friars and clergy with shaven crowns, here of a head naturally bald. The fragil1 bindweed 2-bells and briony 3 rings; In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell Then, wondering, ask'd her "Are you from the farm? "Yes," answer'd she. "Pray stay a little : pardon were strange. What surname?" "Willows." "No!" "That is my name.' "Indeed! and here he look'd so self-perplext, "Have you not heard?" said Katie, we came We bought the farm we tenanted before. 1 Fragil.] So spelt by the author here. 2 Bindweed.] The white convolvulus. 3 Briony, or bryony.] Bryonia, a wild climbing plant with greenishwhite flowers and lovely red berries. THE LETTERS I STILL on the tower stood the vane, A band of pain across my brow; 2 I turn'd and humm'd a bitter song That mock'd the wholesome human heart, We met, but only meant to part. She wore the colours I approved. 1 Gloom'd.] This word is very rarely used as here, transitively, for to make gloomy. Horace Walpole, however, speaks of "a bowwindow... gloomed with limes which shade half each window." 3 She took the little ivory chest, With half a sigh she turn'd the key, My gifts, when gifts of mine could please; As looks a father on the things Of his dead son, I look'd on these. 4 She told me all her friends had said; 5 "Thro' slander, meanest spawn of Hell |