THE CAPTIVE OF FENESTRELLE TO HIS FLOWER.
(1805.)
Pale plantlet that hast sprouted up between
The loosened flagstones of my prison floor
When I well-nigh could recollect no more,
What meant on earth the very colour green;
Thou tiny sweetheart that hast never seen
The sun, nor felt the breezes of the shore;
I kneel in silent rapture and adore
Thy beauty, like the lover of a queen.
Thou art the murmurous woods, the waving corn,
The seeded grass, where babbling streamlets run,
The rosary of dewdrops on the thorn;
Thou art all Nature, with her charms each one,
When least expected, suddenly new-born
In this dull cell, to fill my heart with sun.
