Sopr’ Arno, “Fuccio mi fecé” and the date—
“I made myself a robber;” and he laughed,
And said I was the treasure that he stole;
Ah me! and then he sailed unto the wars,
And all the years that have gone by since then
Are as sad night shades steeped in deadly dews.
Death hath been busy with us, as thou knowest;
Thou art the youngest of my six fair sons,
Thou art the only one to close my eyes
When time shall come and puzzles be explained.