How I Read Petrarch.
I never could read Petrarch. But one day1
I caught him reading it, and stole quite nigh ;2
He saw me, took my hand so lovingly,3
And laid it on a line. I dare not say4
What the line was : ’twas Petrarch’s—and straightway5
He kissed me on a lip, a cheek, an eye,6
But would not pair the kisses. What could I7
But read a page of Petrarch every day ?8
From the same book, of course ! I used to try9
To understand his pencillings, and sigh :10
‘ He is so clever !’ Wearying with this,11
I’d kiss the marks for rest, and kiss, and cry :12
‘ He thought of me just there !’ once, twice—and aye !13
His Petrarch was no poet to my kiss !14