human
I will not tell the world that thou hast chid My heart for worshipping the idol Muse; That thy dark eye has given its gentle lid Tears for my wanderings; I may not choose When thou dost speak but do as I am bid,-- And therefore to the roses and the dews, Very respectfully I make my bow;-- And turn my back upon the tulips now.
gpt
The chief poems in the collection, taken from Boccaccio, were to have been associated with tales from the same source, intended to have been written by a friend; but illness on his part and distracting engagements on mine, prevented us from accomplishing our plan at the time; and Death now, to my deep sorrow, has frustrated it for ever!