Explore "Rimansi Addietro Il Sestodecim' Anno" by Francesco Petrarca on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THOUGH HE IS UNHAPPY, HIS LOVE REMAINS EVER UNCHANGED.
My sixteenth year of sighs its course has run, / I stand alone, already on the brow / Where Age descends: and yet it seems as now / My time of trial only were begun. / 'Tis sweet to love, and good to be undone; / Though life be hard, more days may Heaven allow / Misfortune to outlive: else Death may bow / The bright head low my loving praise that won.