M ADONNA D I Campagna is the name
They christened their few hovels and a church,
And their small roads cross others in the search
For further stones to consecrate her fame;
The mountains over mountains now acclaim
A hope with which the stars, from dawn to age,
Illuminate the skies, from page to page,
In scrolls these humans fancy pray with flame!

The village has no further roundelays —
The folk are lazier, the atmosphere
Weighs drowsily beneath the golden haze:
What work have they ahead, whose path lies clear,
Except to raise some earth to shelter those
Whom the Madonna gathers for repose?