Explore "Ripensando a Quel Ch' Oggi Il Ciel Onora" by Francesco Petrarca on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
HE WOULD DIE OF GRIEF WERE SHE NOT SOMETIMES TO CONSOLE HIM BY HER / PRESENCE.
To that soft look which now adorns the skies, / The graceful bending of the radiant head, / The face, the sweet angelic accents fled, / That soothed me once, but now awake my sighs / Oh! when to these imagination flies, / I wonder that I am not long since dead! / 'Tis she supports me, for her heavenly tread / Is round my couch when morning visions rise! / In every attitude how holy, chaste! / How tenderly she seems to hear the tale / Of my long woes, and their relief to seek! / But when day breaks she then appears in haste / The well-known heavenward path again to scale, / With moisten'd eye, and soft expressive cheek!