EUROPETRARCA

RVF 300 Woodhouselee

O earth, whose clay-cold mantle shrouds that face,And veils those eyes that late so brightly shone,Whence all that gave delight on earth was known,How much I envy thee that harsh embrace!O heaven, that in thy airy courts confinedThat purest spirit, when from earth she fled,And sought the mansions of the righteous dead;How envious, thus to leave my panting soul behind!O angels, that in your seraphic choirReceived her sister-soul, and now enjoyStill present, those delights without alloy,Which my fond heart must still in vain desire!In her I lived—in her my life decays;Yet envious Fate denies to end my hapless days.