Caroline Wilder Fellowes

I LIE unread, alone. None heedeth me.

Day after day the cobwebs are unswept

From my dim covers. I have lain and slept

In dust and darkness for a century.

An old forgotten volume, I. Yet see!

Such mighty words within my heart are kept

That, reading once, great Ariosto wept

In vain despair so impotent to be.

And once, with pensive eyes and drooping head,

Musing, Vittoria Colonna came,

And touched my leaves with dreamy finger tips,

Lifted me up half absently, and read;

Then kissed the page with sudden tender lips,

And sighed, and murmured one belovéd name.