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3.0
Six hundred years ago, in Dante’s time,
Before his cheek was furrowed by deep rhyme;
When Europe, fed afresh from Eastern story,
Was like a garden tangled with the glory
Of flowers hand-planted and of flowers air-sown,
Climbing and trailing, budding and full-blown,
Where purple bells are tossed amid pink stars,
And springing blades, green troops in innocent wars,
Crowd every shady spot of teeming earth,
Making invisible motion visible birth,—
This is the story of Lisa, the daughter of a merchant family in Sicily and her love for the king. Well, I didn't know GE wrote this lyrical poem, it was a pleasant surprise.
Before his cheek was furrowed by deep rhyme;
When Europe, fed afresh from Eastern story,
Was like a garden tangled with the glory
Of flowers hand-planted and of flowers air-sown,
Climbing and trailing, budding and full-blown,
Where purple bells are tossed amid pink stars,
And springing blades, green troops in innocent wars,
Crowd every shady spot of teeming earth,
Making invisible motion visible birth,—
This is the story of Lisa, the daughter of a merchant family in Sicily and her love for the king. Well, I didn't know GE wrote this lyrical poem, it was a pleasant surprise.
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