Come , boy, and where the grass is thickest pied,
With robber hand cut the green season's bloom,
Then flinging open armfuls strew the room
With flowers that April bears in her young pride.

Then set my lyre, song's handmaid, by my side —
For if I may, I'll charm away the gloom
That like a poison worketh to consume
My life, through power of beauty undefied.

Then bring me ink and countless papers white —
White paper shall bear witness to my woe,
Whereon the record of this love I'll write.

Sunburnt Summer less devours,
Less chill is Winter's bitterness,
The bowers in Spring have fewer flowers,
Autumn's grapes are less,

There are less fish in all the sea,
La Beauce hath fewer harvestings,
You'll see less sands in Brittany,
And in Auvergne less springs,

The night less flaming torches wears,
The woods, less leaves to watch them through,
Than bears my heart of pains and cares,
Love, for love of you.

If this be love, my Lady — day and night
To think, muse, dream, of naught but how to please,
To do naught else but seek to serve your ease,
And worship you, who work me most despite;

If this be love — in long and lonely flight
To follow ever joy that ever flees
And find a desert, watered with pain's lees,
A place of silence and of lost delight;

If this be love — to live far more in you
Than in myself; and when I seek to woo,
Abashed, to find no word to urge my suit,
Torn with unequal strife at every breath,

The moon each month is blenched
Brighter to rise;
But once life's light is quenched,
Then shall our eyes
Long sleep be taking,
With no awaking.

Then kiss me, while we live
Above the ground!
A thousand kisses give —
Love knows no bound.
To His divinity
Belongs infinity.

While this green month is fleeting,
Oh! come, my pretty sweeting,
Waste not in vain thy ring-time!
Sly age, ere we've an inkling
Thereof, our hair is sprinkling —
He passeth even as Spring-time.

Then, while, our life is crying
For love, and Time is flying,
Come, love, come reap desire.
Pass love from vein to vein!
Swift comes old Death — and then
All joys expire.

That century to century may tell
The perfect love Ronsard once bore to you,
How he was reason-reft for love of you
And thought it freedom in your chains to dwell;

That age on age posterity full well
May know my veins were filled with beauty of you
And that my heart's one wish was only you,
I bring for gift to you this immortelle.

Long will it live in freshness of its prime.
And you shall live, through me, long after death —
So can the well-skilled lover conquer Time,

Who loving you all virtue followeth.

Where art thou at this moment, love?—what doing,
What saying, thinking?—Dost thou think of me?
Hast thou no care for my hard agony,
Though care for thee still houndeth me, renewing.

My pain, and all my heart with love subduing?—
Absent, I hear thee speak, and speak to thee.
Thy form so present in my mind I see,
No thought can harbor there of other wooing.

I hold thine eyes, thy beauty, and thy grace
Engraven on my heart—and every place
Where e'er I saw thee dance, laugh, speak, or move.

The better you know of my true love's throe,
The more you fly me,
My cruel one;
The more I woo you, the more pursue you,
The more you defy me,
The less are won.

Then shall I leave you? Though 'twould not grieve you,
Alas! believe me
I'm not so brave!
Yet I'll bless the hour of Death's full power
If you'll receive me
To die your slave.

How comely is our motherland,
With joy for every eye!
O'er sunlit vales her mountains stand,
Her prairies kiss the sky.
From many an autumn-bordered lake
Her fair streams seek the shore.
We love her for her beauty's sake,
But most for something more.

What vigor in her throb and tread!
How dauntless is her mind!
She plants that continents be fed,
And never looks behind.
The magic of her lamp and tower
O'ermates Aladdin's lore.
We love her for her bounteous power,
But most for something more.

To love none , all to doubt , to fawn, to flatter,
 To form new faces , and transform true hearts ,
To offer service, and forget the matter,
 Are courtier's principles and practis'd arts.