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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=400976" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Balleta</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=400976" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I AM young and fain to sing <br>In this happy tide of spring <br>Of love and many a gentle thing, <br> I wander through green meadows dight <br>With blossoms gold and red and white; <br>Rose by the thorn and lily fair, <br>Both one and all I do compare <br>With him who, worshipping my charms, <br>For aye would fold me in his arms <br>As one unto his service sworn. <br> Then, when I find a flower that seems <br>Like to the object of my dreams, <br>I gather it and kiss it there, <br>I flatter it in accents fair, <br>My heart outpour, my soul stoop down, <br>Then weave it in a fragrant crown <br>Among my flaxen locks to wear. <br> The rapture nature's floweret gay <br>Awakes in me doth last alway, <br>As if I tarried face to face <br>With him whose true love is my grace; <br>Thoughts which its fragrancy inspires <br>I cannot frame to my desires, <br>My sighs their pilgrimage do trace. <br> My sights are neither harsh nor sad <br>As other women's are, but glad <br>And tender; in so fond a wise <br>They seek my love that he replies <br>By coming hither, and so gives <br>Delight to her who in him lives <br>Yet almost wept: "Come, for hope dies."</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Giovanni+Boccaccio">Giovanni Boccaccio</a></strong></div>