Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights A Gift of Love for the Beautiful |
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THE PLACE WHERE I WAS BORN. |
 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
THE PLACE WHERE I WAS BORN.
You may talk of those green grassy Isles,
Which the Tritons have strewn with their coral,
Which the day-god impregns with his smiles,
Where the seasons forever are floral;
Of the vales of the rich Arcady,
Where the evening is just like the morn;
But the prettiest place in the world for me
Is the cottage where I was born—
Where my father's dear children were born—
In the soft sunny South, where my parents were born.
Which the Tritons have strewn with their coral,
Which the day-god impregns with his smiles,
Where the seasons forever are floral;
Of the vales of the rich Arcady,
Where the evening is just like the morn;
But the prettiest place in the world for me
Is the cottage where I was born—
Where my father's dear children were born—
In the soft sunny South, where my parents were born.
You may talk of the bright Cyclades
Which oasis the deserts of Ocean—
The three fairest Nymphs that inhabit the seas
Which the moon keeps forever in motion;
Of that Beautiful Land far beyond the sea,
Where the evening is just like the morn;
But the prettiest place in the world for me
Is the cottage where I was born—
Where my father's dear children were born—
In the soft sunny South, where my parents were born.
Which oasis the deserts of Ocean—
The three fairest Nymphs that inhabit the seas
Which the moon keeps forever in motion;
Of that Beautiful Land far beyond the sea,
Where the evening is just like the morn;
But the prettiest place in the world for me
Is the cottage where I was born—
Where my father's dear children were born—
In the soft sunny South, where my parents were born.
You may talk of those Gardens of Gul,
Where the maidens make Cupid their treasure,
Where the zephyrs bear Venus at full
Of the moon to the Islands of Pleasure;
Of that Beautiful Land, far beyond the sea,
Where the evening is just like the morn;
But the prettiest place in the world for me,
Is the cottage where I was born—
Where my father's dear children were born—
In the soft sunny South, where my parents were born.
Where the maidens make Cupid their treasure,
Where the zephyrs bear Venus at full
Of the moon to the Islands of Pleasure;
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Where the evening is just like the morn;
But the prettiest place in the world for me,
Is the cottage where I was born—
Where my father's dear children were born—
In the soft sunny South, where my parents were born.
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |