For it seemed to speak with old Tafi's voice,
"Colors to grind, and the shop to be swept!"
Then, out of his bed, on the bare stone floor,
Poor Buonamico, shivering, crept.
V
Busy all day with his quick, young hands,--
Busy his thoughts with a project bold.
"The master will find," he said to himself,
"'Tis not well to work in the dark and the cold!"