V. de Sola
Behold how weak and faded they appear!
They have no strength or beauty. Thus the pale
Untended roses in some lonely vale
Midst ruins their sparse heads with sadness rear.
Weeds stifle them, rank nettles interfere,
And scourges, pests their fragile roots assail;
Transplanted to a garden, although frail,
They'll bloom again and gladden with their cheer.
If my poetic flowers in sunlight grew,
They'd live again and freshly thrive ere long
For you, their queen - these blossoms of my song.
To make them more resplendent then, imbue
Their jaded forms with life both fresh and strong!
Send but your rays their glory to renew!