Sonnet CLXIV.
L' aura celeste che 'n quel verde Lauro. HER HAIR AND EYES. The heavenly airs from yon green laurel roll'd, Where Love to Phoebus whilom dealt his stroke, Where on my neck was placed so sweet a yoke, That freedom thence I hope not to behold, O'er me prevail, as o'er that Arab old Medusa, when she changed him to an oak; Nor ever can the fairy knot be broke Whose light outshines the sun, not merely gold; I mean of those bright locks the curld snare Which folds and fastens with so sweet a grace My soul, whose humbleness defends alone. Her mere shade freezes with a cold despair My heart, and tinges with pale fear my face; And oh! her eyes have power to make me stone. MACGREGOR.
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"L' aura celeste che 'n quel verde Lauro...."
"Sonnet CLXIV." is a quintessential example of Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch)'s signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...