Three Florentines in stone, three singing boys Inhabit all my dreams, their heads apoise, Lips shaped to a song that never leaves their throats. Pity the sculptor, dying, with the notes Of their @3Adeste@1 yet unheard! Who are These voiceless singers? Angels? when the Star Like a rose-window shines and plain-chant swells From the rounded mouths of a million Gabriels? The youngest angels at the Crib, who saw Beauty Incarnate lying in the straw And fell to dreaming and forgot to sing? Through Gothic centuries the minsters ring With antiphons of Bethlehem. Alone Three singing boys, three Florentines in stone, Spreading a sculptured scroll, wait breathlessly Like angel altos listening for their key! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RUMORS FROM AN AEOLIAN HARP by HENRY DAVID THOREAU IL PLEUT DOUCEMENT SUR LA VILLE by PAUL VERLAINE LONDON, 1802 (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A LETTER by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY SONG: 1 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD POLLY BE-EN UPZIDES WI' TOM by WILLIAM BARNES THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: CANTO 3 by WILLIAM BASSE |