II.
"Ainsi qu' aux fleurs la vieillesse,
Fera ternir votre beauté."—Ronsard.
And lightly, like the flowers,
Your beauties Age will dim,
Who makes the song a hymn,
And turns the sweets to sours!
Alas! the chubby Hours
Grow lank and grey and grim,
And lightly, like the flowers,
Your beauties Age will dim.
Still rosy are the bowers,
The walks yet green and trim.
Among them let your whim
Pass sweetly, like the showers,
And lightly, like the flowers.
W. E. Henley.