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Giacomo Leopardi
1798 - 1837
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Poetry Foundation
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The Lonely Sparrow
Thou from the top of yonder antique tower, / O lonely sparrow, wandering, hast gone, / Thy song repeating till the day is done,
The Ruling Thought
Most sweet, most powerful, / Controller of my inmost soul; / The terrible, yet precious gift
The Setting Of The Moon
As, in the lonely night, / Above the silvered fields and streams / Where zephyr gently blows,
The Village Saturday Night
The damsel from the field returns, / The sun is sinking in the west; / Her bundle on her head she sets,
The Younger Brutus
When in the Thracian dust uprooted lay, / In ruin vast, the strength of Italy, / And Fate had doomed Hesperia's valleys green,
To A Victor In The Game Of Pallone
The face of glory and her pleasant voice, / O fortunate youth, now recognize, / And how much nobler than effeminate sloth
To Angelo Mai, On His Discovery Of The Lost Books Of Cicero, "De Republica."
Italian bold, why wilt thou never cease / The fathers from their tombs to summon forth? / Why bring them, with this dead age to converse,
To Count Carlo Pepoli
This wearisome and this distressing sleep / That we call life, O how dost thou support, / My Pepoli? With what hopes feedest thou
To Himself
Nor wilt thou rest forever, weary heart. / The last illusion is destroyed, / That I eternal thought. Destroyed!
To His Sister Paolina, On Her Approaching Marriage
Since now thou art about to leave / Thy father's quiet house, / And all the phantoms and illusions dear,
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