"Many in aftertimes will say of you"
Vien dietro a me e lascia dir le genti. – Dante
Contando i casi della vita nostra. – Petrarca
Many in aftertimes will say of you
‘He loved her’ – while of me what will they say?
Not that I loved you more than just in play,
For fashion’s sake as idle women do.
Even let them prate; who know not what we knew
Of love and parting in exceeding pain.
Of parting hopeless here to meet again,
Hopeless on earth, and heaven is out of view.
But by my heart of love laid bare to you.
My love that you can make not void nor vain,
Love that foregoes you but to claim anew
Beyond this passage of the gate of death,
I charge you at the Judgment make it plain
My love of you was life and not a breath.
Other author posts
Winter: My Secret
I tell my secret? No indeed, not I; Perhaps some day, who knows? But not today; it froze, and blows and snows, And you’re too curious: fie!
Who Has Seen the Wind?
Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you: But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is passing through.
In the bleak midwinter
In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
In an Artist's Studio
One face looks out from all his canvases, One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans: We found her hidden just behind those screens, That mirror gave back all her loveliness.