Sonnet LXXII
SONNET LXXII.
Più volte Amor m' avea già detto: scrivi.
HE WRITES WHAT LOVE BIDS HIM.
White—to my heart Love oftentimes had said—Write what thou seest in letters large of gold,That livid are my votaries to behold,And in a moment made alive and dead.Once in thy heart my sovran influence spreadA public precedent to lovers told;Though other duties drew thee from my fold,I soon reclaim'd thee as thy footsteps fled.And if the bright eyes which I show'd thee first,If the fair face where most I loved to stay,Thy young heart's icy hardness when I burst,Restore to me the bow which all obey,Then may thy cheek, which now so smooth appears,Be channell'd with my daily drink of tears.
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