As from the house your mother sees
You playing round the garden trees,
So you may see, if you will look
Through the windows of this book,
Another child, far, far away,
And in another garden, play.
But do not think you can at all,
By knocking on the window, call
That child to hear you. He intent
Is all on his play-business bent.
He does not hear, he will not look,
Nor yet be lured out of this book.
For, long ago, the truth to say,
He has grown up and gone away,
And it is but a child of air
That lingers in the garden there.
H e was drilling a small hole in the panel. For the past few weeks he had painted the panel with utmost concentration. The painting was of the Florence Baptistry and its surrounding, as it looked when seen from the Cathedral. There was something special in this painting when compared to all other paintings of that time. Once done, he set the panel to face the view that inspired it. Now he stood behind the panel and leaned forward to peep through the hole. For an onlooker, all this might have looked crazy, or even worse he or she would have accused this painter of plotting something shady. As he was peeping through the hole, Brunelleschi picks up a mirror and holds the mirror at arm's length, in front of the panel. Now he was able to see the reflection of the painting in the mirror. As he continued to view through the hole, he moved the mirror in and out of his line of sight. It was now clear that he was trying to compare his painting to the real Baptistery. But...
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