Sonnet X

TO TAGLIONI. SPIRIT of Grace, whose airy footsteps fall So lightly! sure the looker-on must be Most dull of fancy who doth not recall Some sweet comparison to picture thee! The white snow, drifing in its soundless showers,-- The young bird resting on a summer-bough,-- The south-wind bending down the opening flowers,-- The clear wave lifted with a gentle flow,-- Rippling and bright, advancing and retreating, Curling around the rock its dancing spray, Like a fair child whose kiss of gentle greeting Woos a companion to make holiday,-- Such are the thoughts of beauty round me shed, While pleased my eyes pursue thy light elastic tread.