22 October 2009

Richard Wilbur poem

Piazza di Spagna, Early Morning

I can't forget

How she stood at the top of that long marble stair

Amazed, and then with a sleepy pirouette

Went dancing slowly down to the fountain-quieted square;

Nothing upon her face

But some impersonal loneliness,- not then a girl

But as it were a reverie of the place,

A called-for falling glide and whirl;

As when a leaf, petal, or thin chip

Is drawn to the falls of a pool and, circling a moment above it,

Rides on over the lip-

Perfectly beautiful, perfectly ignorant of it.

Richard Wilbur

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