Laura to Petrarch

Sweet Florentine that sitteth by the hearth

When hums my spinning, and the shadows leap

As leaps the fire and with its stealthy creep,

The winter twilight hushes all the earth:

A husband's love besunning my life's girth,

Warms me like grain that ripens for the reap;

And children, my life's jewels, stand and peep

Behind my chair, and leave my heart no dearth.

But who would scorn to add another hour

To glorious summer's ampleness, or scorn

Bright gems of thought, though sparkling be her dower?

So let thy fondness warm me and adorn,

Sweet Florentine, though Love already shower

Its ripening rays like sunshine on the corn.