Madrigal

Breaking his way through the white clouds in the azure, The sun laughs out and cries: “O Springtime, come!”

Across the greening hills with placid murmurs The streams sing back to the breeze: “O Springtime, come!”

“O Springtime, come!” to his heart the poet is saying, While gazing, O pure Lalage, in thine eyes!

ODI BARBARE.