Tuscany, where the sun joy returns to home,
Spreading its golden arms in wide embrace,
Tossing Chianti kisses on the verdant loam
And on the cheeks of every passing face.
Tuscany, God’s canvas sketched in vibrant gold,
Where praises drop like heavy, clustered grapes
And olives smile in their abundant groves,
Oh, hills that slither toward the sky,
Green clad and speckled with host of flower,
My heart, with skipping beat and cries,
Shall clench within this treasured hours.
Edwin Vogt, 2007
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