| Samuel Waddington, comp. The Sonnets of Europe. 1888. | | | | Roses | | By Pierre de Ronsard (1524–1585) |
| | Translated by Andrew Lang
I SEND you here a wreath of blossoms blown, | |
| And woven flowers at sunset gathered, | |
| Another dawn had seen them ruined, and shed | |
| Loose leaves upon the grass at random strown. | |
| By this, their sure example, be it known, | 5 |
| That all your beauties, now in perfect flower, | |
| Shall fade as these, and wither in an hour, | |
| Flowerlike, and brief of days, as the flower sown. | |
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| Ah, time is flying, lady—time is flying; | |
| Nay, ’tis not time that flies but we that go, | 10 |
| Who in short space shall be in churchyard lying, | |
| And of our loving parley none shall know, | |
| Nor any man consider what we were; | |
| Be therefore kind, my love, whiles thou art fair. | | | | |
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