O solitude, my sweetest choice!
Places devoted to the night,
Remote from tumult and from noise,
How ye my restless thoughts delight!
O heav'ns! what content is mine
To see these trees, which have appear'd
From the nativity of time,
And which all ages have rever'd,
To look today as fresh and green
As when their beauties first were seen...
poem by antoine girard de saint-amant
translated by katherine fowler philips aka orinda
music by henry purcell
drawing by girlontape