The new moon draws an engaging smile which pierces Rome to her ancient depths. And nowhere a cloud to resist the mood or defend even crannies against its invasion. Shadows themselves have scurried away into hiding places, have changed into men in cafes secretly plotting to rule her at last and forever, this Rome: only to be found in the morning with steel through their hearts. The wily police will say, other men did the deed, and methodically trace them to other cafes. But I will bear witness against that heavenly clown: nor even that whilom emperor, His Holiness, cleanse my blood of the superstition! |