Page:The Improvisatrice.pdf/273



skies are blue, your sun is bright; But sky nor sun has that sweet light Which gleamed upon the summer sky Of my own lovely ! 'Tis long since I have breathed the air, Which, filled with odours, floated there,— Sometimes in sleep a gale sweeps by, Rich with the rose and myrtle's sigh;— 'Tis long since I have seen the vine With Autumn's topaz clusters shine;