Donatello's Cantoria

YE happy children, hand in hand forever,
With laughing eyes that sorry tears disown,
Entwining troops that in and out together
Dance age-long there across the sentient stone —
What ancient shapes of joy do ye remember ?
What far Thessalian meadows left ye lone ?
With June smiles chiseled there in white December
What spell of springs innumerous have ye known ?
Your faces, fair as wilding windflowers blowing,
Gleam there abidingly in mimic play;
Fresh as the morning notes from Panpipes flowing,
Your golden voices tease the ear for aye.
Enmarbled visions, undisturbed and distant,
That laugh at death in candid undismay,
Ye prove eternal youth, aloof, consistent —
O careless tenants of Art’s timeless day !