Classic Poem

PETRARCH

Love the Ripe Harvest of my toils
Began to cherish with his Smiles
Preparing me to be indued
With all the Joyes I long pursued,
When my fresh Hopes fair and full blown
Death blasts ere I could call my own.

Malicious Death why with rude Force
Dost thou my fair from me divorce?
False Life why in this loathed Chain
Me from my fair dost thou detain?
In whom assistance shall I finde?
Alike are Life and Death unkinde.

Pardon me Love thy power outshines,
And laughs at their infirm designes.
She is not wedded to a Tomb,
Nor I to sorrow in her room.
They what thou joyn'st can nere divide:
She lives in me in her I dy'd.