Inspired to write this after reading Petrarch's "Canzoniere":
"Apollo, should the fair desire still last
that burned you where Thessalian waters flow,
if golden tresses loved so long ago
be not forgotten with the ages past;"
Petrarch, The Canzoniere (Sonnet 34 1-4) [Anthony Mortimer translation]
Sonnet
of Fallen Hope.
Oh,
Great Apollo, dost thou see me now
In
thorns that once were roses, bright and bound;
Protected,
e'er upon a sunlit ground
That
woke and softly slept beneath your brow.
Yet now
you mock and curse, whereby I weep
For
days that passed me by in joys of dreams,
And
nights that soothed my cries, they did redeem
Me from
the solace of eternity.
Beneath
the drooping greens of willow trees
Where
at I meditate upon my life
And
weep to see the day that I shall rise.
There
brushed along by an unpleasant breeze,
A
breeze, of such Apollo, washed with strife
As
fountains of my hopefulness wane dry.
© Cecil Field
 |
| Beata Beatrix - Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
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