287. Wherein He Hopes to Find Her Beside Him in the Death He Feels at Hand -

WHEREIN HE HOPES TO FIND HER BESIDE HIM IN THE DEATH HE FEELS AT HAND

Go, grief-bewildered rhymes! Go kneel and knock
On the cold stone that locks all I held dear,
Calling her by her name! Ah, Heaven may hear
And her soul listen — though the marble mock!
Tell her I sicken of life; tell her the shock
Of the world's welter is more than I can bear:
I follow her feet like flowers everywhere,
Her footprints follow — up to that grim rock.
Singing of her incessantly I wander;
Of her alive, her dead I weave my verse —
Dead? Never, never by her immortal fate! —
Ah, when I go, may she confront me yonder,
And may the place I find beyond that gate —
Which Heaven delay not — glitter next to hers!
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Author of original: 
Francesco Petrarch
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