For many days I followed you, dear ghost, and then came one who drew me out Of the whirl wind, and in her beautiful palace, where the ladies Of the Decameron told the deplorable, delicious tales which have always delighted the world, she lured me back with songs to the appearance we call reality, and for that and for a thousand other gifts beside I have dared to write her name in this little book, and to give it her, not that it is worthy or such as I would give her if I might choose, but that she will prefer it, knowing what it is.
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