Piazza Di Spanga, Early Morning

I can't forget
How she stood at the top of that long marble stair
Amazed, and then with a sleepy pirouette
Went dancing slowly down to the fountain-quieted square;

Nothing upon her face
But some impersonal loneliness, - not then a girl
But as it were a reverie of the place
A called for falling glide and whirl;

As when a leaf, petal or thin chip
Is drawn to the falls of a pool and, circling a moment above it
Rides over the lip - perfectly beautiful, perfectly ignorant of it.

Richard Wilbur