(an Italian Sonnet)
Speak not to me of love’s delight
nor whisper words of ecstasy.
Leave be the thought of wooing me,
I’ll not succumb to ardor’s might
nor soar to passion’s fatal height.
My heart is closed to loving thee
and thus it shall forever be,
for love is banished from my sight.
The scars I bear from passion’s reign
shall long remind me not to fly
into the blaze of rapture’s flame
nor sing sweet notes of love’s refrain.
So sir, I pray thee, pass me by,
entice me not to love’s sure pain.