Classic Poem

And now take thought, my sonnet, who is he
That most is full of every gentleness;
And say to him (for thou shalt quickly guess
His name) that all his 'hests are law to me.
For if I held fair Paris town in fee,
And were not called his friend, 'twere surely less.
Ah! had he but the emperor's wealth, my place
Were fitted in his love more steadily
Than is Saint Francis at Assisi. Alway
Commend him unto me and his,—not least
To Caian, held so dear in the blithe band.
‘Folgore da San Geminiano’ (say),
‘Has sent me, charging me to travel fast,
Because his heart went with you in your hand.’