Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CLEAR, COOL STREAMS THAT SOFTLY FLOW, by PETRARCH


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CLEAR, COOL STREAMS THAT SOFTLY FLOW, by                     Poet's Biography
Last Line: Boldly thou could'st aspire!
Alternate Author Name(s): Petrarca, Francesco
Subject(s): Love - Loss Of


Clear, cool streams that softly flow
Where she lay in loveliness
Who hath no peer on earth below;
Gracious tree she deigned to bless,
Leaning her sweet body down
(I must sigh remembering);
Ye beneath her dainty gown,
Flowers and grasses covering
Her angelic bosom o'er;
Blessed and unclouded skies,
Where Love opened my heart's door
With the wonder of her eyes;
Hearken to the words I sing
Of my bitter sorrowing.
Would that so my lot were cast,
And thereunto the Heavens agree,
For Love to close my eyes at last,
And this my worthless body be
Endowed with some kind grace of yours,
What time my soul in nakedness
Must pass beyond its earthly doors.
Death will be without distress
If such hopes with me remain
When I cross the shadowy sea;
In a quiet port again
Will my weary spirit be,
Cast this tortured flesh aside
And in tranquil grave abide.
Unto this familiar place
Haply she once more may stray
In her gentleness and grace;
Where upon that blessed day
We first met, she may be fain
To seek me with glad, eager eyes,
And, seeing me dust to dust again
Amid the stones, may waft her sighs
To Heaven for mercy and, by Love
Inspired, may with such kindness pray
On my behalf that up above
No heart there be to say her nay,
Whilst with her lovely veil she dries
The tears that well into her eyes.
Gratefully I mind me how
On her bosom showered down
Petals from a flowering bough;
Some were folded in her gown,
Some fell on those tresses pale,
Like to pearls and burnished gold;
Some upon the stream did sail;
Some were gathered in earth's hold;
Some the breezes bore around:
"Love reigns here," they seemed to say,
Whilst she, whom Love's halo crowned,
I beheld upon that day
In all meekness seated there,
Of her glory unaware.
With a sudden terror cowed,
Often to myself I said:
"She is unto Heaven vowed!"
"When forgetfulness was bred
In me by her godly grace,
By the music of her mirth,
Her words, the vision of her face,
I thought I was no more on earth
And, spirited so far away
From common things, I did complain:
"How came I here and on what day?"
In these green meadows I remain
Since then, it pleaseth me so best,
For here alone my heart hath rest.
If thou, O Song, were richly pearled
As matcheth thy desire,
From thy retreat unto the world
Boldly thou could'st aspire!







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