You by the Arno shape your marble dream, Under the cypress and the olive trees, While I, this side the wild wind-beaten seas, Unrestful by the Charles's placid stream, Long once again to catch the golden gleam Of Brunelleschi's dome, and lounge at ease In those pleached gardens and fair galleries. And yet perchance you envy me, and deem My star the happier, since it holds me here. Even so one time, beneath the cypresses, My heart turned longingly across the sea To these familiar fields and woodlands dear, And I had given all Titian's goddesses For one poor cowslip or anemone.