After Petrarch — Alma felice che sovente torni

Dear happy soul, how often, since you died,
you come by night to one who grieves alone,
with eyes Death has not quenched, but beautified
beyond such as the mortal world has known.

How I rejoice that you consent to grace
and gladden my sad days when you appear!
I sense your beauties present in this place:
familiar rooms we lived and loved in, here.

I praised you here in song so many years,
where now I wander, weeping, as you see.
Not you, but losing you, provokes these tears.

One respite only eases my distress:
whenever you return to comfort me
I know your walk, your voice, your face, your dress.