ILARIA, thou that wert so fair and dear br That death would fain disown thee, grief made wise br With prophecy thy husband's widowed eyes br And bade him call the master's art to rear br Thy perfect image on the sculptured bier, br With dreaming lids, hands laid in peaceful guise br Beneath the breast that seems to fall and rise, br And lips that at love's call should answer, 'Here!' br br br First-born of the Renascence, when thy soul br Cast the sweet robing of the flesh aside, br Into these lovelier marble limbs it stole, br Regenerate in art's sunrise clear and wide br As saints who, having kept faith's raiment whole, br Change it above for garments glorified.