Cold SnapDragon

Loosely Translated From A French Poem By Pierre Ronsard (1524-1585) When you grow old at evening, you'll spin beside the fire, In candlelight you'll marvel at memories of days gone by, Singing my songs, you'll say, 'He loved me dear when I was young,' and sigh, But soon enough, labouring at the wheel, you'll tire. Those servants with you at the time will hear of my demise, But they'll know naught about our past and care not for my fame, Lavishing immortal praise on you, they'll fervently bless your name, And for my sake alone, they will not make you rise. Sitting by the fire, you'll be but an old woman with no zest, While I, ghost without bone, below the Earth shall be lain, You'll regret the loss of my love and your proud disdain, Alas! By then, beneath the myrtle's shade I will be at rest. So live as though you believe in me, Without waiting for tomorrow, Gather the roses of life from today, Before there's cause to sorrow. Ronsard'...