Read+Sonnet+28

=**Sonnet 28**= By: Francesco Petrarch Alone, and lost in thought, the desert glade Measuring I roam with lingering steps and slow; And still a watchful glance around me throw, Anxious to shun the print of human tread: No other means I find, no surer aid From the world's prying eye to hide my woe: So well my wild disorder'd gestures show, And love-lorn looks, the fire within me bred, That well I think each mountain, wood and plain, And river knows, what I from man conceal, What dreary hues my life's fool chances dim. Yet whate'er wild or savage paths I've ta'en, Where'er I wander, love attends me still, Soft whisp'ring to my soul, and I to him.

//**Translated by**// **//Anonymous//*