Three Sonnets from Petrarch’s Canzoniere 

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Regrettably, my final happy day
(in this brief life my count of these is low . . .),
arrived and changed my heart to melting snow,
perhaps a sign of sadness and dismay.

Like one with tertian fever on the way
as muscles, pulse, and introspection slow,
I felt that way too, though I didn’t know
my shameful wealth would waste away.