Christina Rossetti

I have no wit, no words, no tears;

My heart is like a singing bird

When I was dead, my spirit turned

Before the winter morn,

We lack, yet cannot fix upon the lack:

Go from me, summer friends, and tarry not:

SAFE where I cannot die yet,

Something this foggy day, a something which

Lo dм che han detto a' dolci amici addio. - Dante

I never said I loved you, John:

Gone were but the Winter,

The irresponsive silence of the land,

I tell my secret? No indeed, not I: