Sonnet From Petrarch.
“ Se lamentar angelli o verdi fronde.”
The birds’ sad song, the young leaves’ rustling play,1
In the soft summer air, the hoarser sounds2
Of lucid waters as they rush away3
Between their verdant flower-enameled bounds,4
Where, lost in Love’s sweet phantasies, I lie ;5
All these—the murmur of bird, leaf, and stream,6
Are filled with her. To my fond ear and eye7
Her voice, her living form, still present seem ;8
And to my passionate sorrow she replies9
In pitying accents from the far-off shore—10
“ Why dost thou shed such tears from those sad eyes ?11
Untimely wasting ! Weep for me no more.12
I died to live ; and when life seemed to close,13
The dawn of God’s eternal day arose.”14