The Captive of Fenestrelle to His Flower

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.