by Annette Wynne
An Italian boy that like to play
In Genoa about the ships all day,
With curly head and dark, dark eyes,
That gazed at earth in child surprise;
And dreamed of distant stranger skies.
He watched the ships that came crowding in
With cargo of riches; he loved the din
Of the glad rush out and the spreading sails
And the echo of far-off windy gales.
He studied the books of the olden day;
He studied but knew far more than they;
He talked to the learned men of the school --
So wise he was they thought him a fool,
A fool with the dark, dark dreamful eyes,
A child he was -- grown wonder-wise.
Youth and dreams are over, past
And out, far out he is sailing fast
Toward the seas he dreamed; -- strange lands arise --
The world is made rich by his great emprise --
And the wisest know he was more than wise.