A Wreath Of Sonnets (9/14)

They were all fed on many a plaint and tear

The humble blooms on my Parnassus grown;

My tears of love flowed not for you alone,

But also for the land I hold so dear.

My soul was filled with bitterness and fear

At love so scant to a trusting Mother shown;

The thought that no more love from you I've known

Torments and tears me like a wound severe.

All the reward I wished for was that you

With me a poet's timeless fame might share

That native songs our poignant tale might bear;

That all Slovenes should waken and that true

Content and joy might come. Despite my care,

Frail growth these blossoms had, so sad and few.