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...AN OLD WOMAN: 2. HARVEST by EDITH SITWELL THE SONG OF A HEATHEN by RICHARD WATSON GILDER IDLENESS by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL GETTYSBURG [JULY 1-3, 1863] by JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE EMBLEMS OF LOVE: CUPID TO CHLOE WEEPING; A SONNET by PHILIP AYRES THE SMUGGLER'S LEAP; A LEGEND OF THANET by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM GREEN AISLES by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |