Sonnet XIX ( A Petrarchan Sonnet)

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Thou January's most delightsome wind,

Enwreathe my being in winter's bland solace;

Such that romance's mellow tunes I may trace

Beneath her casement, by a tree recline'd

And hope her radiant face, I may find

Adorned with her charm and tender grace;

For longing I am to her warm embrace,

Ergo to thee I pray, O zephyr kind!

To stay amidst us, for eternal hours,

For as the spring'll ripe with new buds reborn,

So will our sweet eves fade into the night!

New rose shall bloom, but wilt will love's flowers!

Not her shape shall fill her casement at morn

And not her bonny face shall greet my sight!

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Screen name of poet : Vunslej