Classic Poem

There are, who hail with joy returning Spring
To mark the fields their verdant hue resume,
To hear the birds their amorous ditties sing.
And see the trees and flowers renew their bloom:
I am not one of those — It is my doom,
When vernal breezes and fair days return,
Those outward pleasures inwardly to mourn
Shrouding my anxious heart in tenfold gloom.
And of my sorrow Baiae is the cause
That with false joys my Lady hence invites,
And she with her all my soul's quiet draws.
Me therefore every season more delights
Than this; For she, whose pleasure gives me laws,
My presence there forbids — and anguish slights.