I'd sing of Love in such a novel fashion that from her cruel side I would draw by force a thousand sighs a day, kindling again in her cold mind a thousand high desires; I'd see her lovely face transform quite often her eyes grow wet and more compassionate, like one who feels regret, when it's too late, for causing someone's suffering by mistake; And I'd see scarlet roses in the snows, tossed by the breeze, discover ivory that turns to marble those who see it near them; All this I'd do because I do not mind my discontentment in this one short life, but glory rather in my later fame.
Petrarch - 1304-1374
Sonnet 101 [Ways apt and new to sing of love I'd find]
Ways apt and new to sing of love I'd find, Forcing from her hard heart full many a sigh, And re-enkindle in her frozen mind Desires a thousand, passionate and high; O'er her fair face would see each swift change pass, See her fond eyes at length where pity reigns, As one who sorrows when too late, alas! For his own error and another's pains; See the fresh roses edging that fair snow Move with her breath, that ivory descried, Which turns to marble him who sees it near; See all, for which in this brief life below Myself I weary not but rather pride That Heaven for later times has kept me here.