“Mignonne Allons Voir Si La Rose....”
After Ronsard.
COME, sweet, away! Come see the rose,
Now that the day draws near its close,
See whether it be faded grown—
Whether at evening fall away
Those leaves that opened to the day,
Or dies their blush, so like thine own.
Thou seest, dear love, its beauties pass,
Its wasted petals fall, alas!,
In one short hour. It may not bide.
Unkind in truth is Mother Earth
Since dawn gives such a flower its birth
And Death draws nigh at eventide.
So, sweet my darling, hear my voice,
I bid thee, in thy youth, rejoice!
Before thy fragile petals close
Gather thy blossoms whilst thou may,
With time they fall and fade away
As droops at night the withered rose.