LIII

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LIII

The Muse appeared, when love passed by

And my dark soul to light was brought;

Free, I renewed the idolatry

Of harmony enshrining thought.

I write, and anguish flies away,

Nor doth my absent pen portray

Around my stanzas incomplete

Young ladies’ faces and their feet.

Extinguished ashes do not blaze⁠—

I mourn, but tears I cannot shed⁠—

Soon, of the tempest which hath fled

Time will the ravages efface⁠—

When that time comes, a poem I’ll strive

To write in cantos twenty-five.