Page:Castruccio Castrucani.pdf/22

Rh

The past it is my world: ah! but for that, How could I bear the present? In the past Is garner'd all most precious to my soul. It is not true that love decays or dies With time or absence: years have pass'd away, Yet still my dreams are faithful to one thought. One voice makes secret music in my ear, Distinct as when it breathed its earliest vow. Long since hath hope grown faint, but weary never! Fate may have said that we shall meet no more! But rather would I live upon the love Whose only food is memory, than forget, And ask oblivion for its cold content.