Love's Excuse.
Dal dolcie pianto. From happy tears to woeful smiles, from peace Eternal to a brief and hollow truce, How have I fallen!--when 'tis truth we lose, Sense triumphs o'er all adverse impulses. I know not if my heart bred this disease, That still more pleasing grows with growing use; Or else thy face, thine eyes, which stole the hues And fires of Paradise--less fair than these. Thy beauty is no mortal thing; 'twas sent From heaven on high to make our earth divine: Wherefore, though wasting, burning, I'm content; For in thy sight what could I do but pine? If God himself thus rules my destiny, Who, when I die, can lay the blame on thee?
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Dal dolcie pianto...."
"Love's Excuse." is a quintessential example of Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...