Sonnet 12 Poem by John Florio

The flowing time has drained into a year,
But our vague future is still unclear;
In the course of life are there just lessons,
Who knows when and what happens.
But one is sure that I can never be happy,
My heart is in turmoil, it isn't easy.
Where have your promise and swear gone?
Strung those words, love was done!

In dead of night, strange tones so drear,
Wake me up from dreams of fear;
The unceasing memories drag me down,
In my small house above the town.
That wreck my frame with burning cold,
And I always rise with shivers manifold.