Petrarch - Sonnet CXI lyrics

TO ONE WHO SPOKE TO HIM OF LAURA Whene'er you speak of her in that soft tone Which Love himself his votaries surely taught, My ardent pa**ion to such fire is wrought, That e'en the dead reviving warmth might own: Where'er to me she, dear or kind, was known There the bright lady is to mind now brought, In the same bearing which, to waken thought, Needed no sound but of my sighs alone. Half-turn'd I see her looking, on the breeze Her light hair flung; so true her memories roll On my fond heart of which she keeps the keys; But the surpa**ing bliss which floods my soul So checks my tongue, to tell how, queen-like, there, She sits as on her throne, I never dare. Macgregor.