EUROPETRARCA

RVF 300 Wrottesley

What envy of the greedy earth I bear,That holds from me within its cold embraceThe light, the meaning, of that angel face,On which to gaze could soften e'en despair.What envy of the saints, in realms so fair,Who eager seem'd, from that bright form of graceThe spirit pure to summon to its place,Amidst those joys, which few can hope to share;What envy of the blest in heaven above,With whom she dwells in sympathies divineDenied to me on earth, though sought in sighs;And oh! what envy of stern Death I prove,That with her life has ta'en the light of mine,Yet calls me not,—though fixed and cold those eyes.