Sonnet 19/10/18 MCLXXXI How can heart for this muse not passions feel When her smile feeds my dreams, and lights the room As if angel were present? Might hopes bloom When I have sight of Beauty? Muse seems all Of heart’s desire, though I dare not muse call More than lines’ inspiration. If she wills, In her glance I might find what of dream fills. Yet, I cannot muse’s affections steal. Muse does not allow lines to tell what I Would offer to one who holds heart in thrall: I cannot ask she more than glances share. Should I abandon hope and let dreams die, That I cannot more than friend this muse call? I fear I cannot not for my muse care.
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