< Page:Sonnets and Ballate of Guido Cavalcanti.djvu
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Ballate
She held to me with a dear wilfulness,
Saying her heart had gone into my bosom,
She drew me on to a cool leafy place
Where I gat sight of every coloured blossom,
And there I drank in so much summer sweetness
Meseemed Love’s god connived at its completeness.
117
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