Poems (Botta)/An Apology for Sadness

AN APOLOGY FOR SADNESS.


When, in the miser’s eager gaze, His countless treasures lie, Then most his coward spirit sinks, With dread of poverty.

And when I felt within my grasp, The treasure of thy love; The insatiate avarice of the heart Fierce with my spirit strove.

It troubled the clear fountain where My thirsting soul had quaffed, And mingled tears of bitterness With the delicious draught.