On Petrarch'S Heart, All Other Days Before, In Flaming Letters Written, Was Impress D Good Friday. And On Mine, Be It Confess'D, Is This Year'S Advent, As It Passeth O'Er. I Do Not Now Begin, I Still Adore Her Whom I Early Cherish'D In My Breast;, Then Once Again With Prudence Dispossess'D, And To Whose Heart I'm Driven Back Once More. The Love Of Petrarch, That All-Glorious Love, Was Unrequited, And, Alas, Full Sad; One Long Good Friday 'Twas, One Heartache Drear But May My Mistress' Advent Ever Prove, With Its Palm-Jubilee, So Sweet And Glad, One Endless Mayday, Through The Livelong Year!