V. de Sola
They come from where no man can sunshine find -
Not from those regions by your glance caressed,
Where all the cares of this world are at rest,
And sweet oblivion follows close behind;
Where joy reigns with a fullness scarce divined,
And vanished are the conflicts that distressed;
Where song springs from an overflowing breast
With sweetest harmonies of every kind;
Where nursed by pure love, grow the fairest flowers,
Luxuriant in beauty and in grace,
As though kissed by the breath of vernal hours.
My songs that praise you come from no such place;
They grew untouched by any friendly powers,
Unblest by soothing winds of warmer days.