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Francesco Petrarch
1304-1374 / Arezzo, Italy
Poems of Francesco Petrarch
A new young angel carried by her wings
A pure white hind appeared to me
Ah me, the beautiful face, ah me, the gentle look,
Alone and thoughtful, through the most desolate fields,
As at times in hot sunny weather
At the foot of the hill where beauty's garment
Bitter tears pour down my face
Blessed be the day, and the month, and the year,
Canzone XVI
Clear, sweet fresh water
Doth any Maiden Seek The Glorious Fame
From 'Visions'
From what part of the heavens, from what idea
Full of a wandering thought that separates me
Glorious pillar in whom rests
Greed and sleep and slothful beds
Grizzled and white the old man leaves
Heavenly Father, after the lost days,
I find no peace, and yet I make no war:
I go weeping for my time past,
I have not seen you, lady,
I have offered you my heart a thousand times
I turn back at every step I take
If my life of bitter torment and of tears
If No Love Is, O God, What Fele I So? (Sonnet 102)
It was on that day when the sun's ray
Life flies, and never stays an hour,
Little wandering bird that goes singing
Love leads me on, from thought to thought,
Many times now, with my true thought,
My passion's folly is so led astray
My sad verse, go to the harsh stone
My thought raised me to a place in which
My weary eyes, there, while I turn you
No weary helmsman ever fled for harbour
Not Ticino, Po, Varo, Arno, Adige or Tiber
Now that the sky and the earth and the wind are silent
O beautiful hand that clutches my heart
O little room that was once a refuge
Petrarch
She let her gold hair scatter in the breeze
Sonnet 101 [Ways apt and new to sing of love I'd find]
Sonnet 131 [I'd sing of Love in such a novel fashion]
That nightingale who weeps so sweetly,
That wandering paleness which conceals
The angels elect and the blessed spirits,
The eyes I spoke about so warmly,
The heavens have revolved for seventeen years
The high column and the green laurel are broken
The time to labour, for every animal
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