Written in Petrarch's House

Petrarch! I would that there might be
In this thy household sanctuary
No visible monument of thee:

The fount that whilom played before thee,
The roof that rose in shelter o'er thee,
The low fair hills that still adore thee, —

I would no more; thy memory
Must loathe all cold reality,
Thought-worship only is for thee.

They say thy tomb lies there below;
What want I with the marble show?
I am content, — I will not go:

For though by poesy's high grace
Thou saw'st, in thy calm resting-place,
God, love, and nature face to face;

Yet now that thou art wholly free,
How can it give delight to see
That sign of thy captivity?