The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (9.1896)

Two Sonnets from Petrarch

168

II—She should have Died Hereafter !

Love had at length a tranquil port displayed
j To travailed soul, long vexed by toil and teen,

In calm maturity, where naked seen
Is Vice, and Virtue in fair garb arrayed.

Bare to her eyes my heart should now be laid,
Disquieted no more their peace serene—

O Death, what harvest of long years hath been
Ruin by thee in one brief moment made !

The hour when unreproved I might invoke

Her chaste ear’s favour, and disburden there
My breast of fond and ancient thought, drew nigh
And she, perchance, considering as I spoke,

Each bloomless face and either’s silvered hair,

Some blessed word had uttered with a sigh.