That feeling when something you were waiting for falls just a little short of your hopes? Monteverdi understands.
O spring, the youth of the year,
beautiful mother of flowers, fresh herbs, and new loves,
you indeed return but without the sweet days of my hopes.
You are simply that with was charming and lovely,
but I am not now as I once was - so dear to the eyes of another.
(Translation by Hilary Anne Walker)