Petrarch,
Canzoniere — Poem IX
(14th century)
“ Till herbs and fruits, like these I send, are rife. --So she, a sun amid her fellow fair, Shedding the rays of her bright eyes on me, Thoughts, acts, and words of love wakes into life-- But, ah! for me is no new Spring, nor e'er, Smile they on whom she will, again can be. ”
