Verse > Anthologies > Samuel Waddington, ed. > The Sonnets of Europe
Samuel Waddington, comp.  The Sonnets of Europe.  1888.
Page, Suy Moy
By Pierre de Ronsard (1524–1585)
Translated by Robert, Earl of Lytton

FOLLOW, my Page, where the green grass embosoms
  The enamelled season’s freshest-fallen dew;
  Then home, and my still house with handfuls strew
Of frail-lived April’s newliest nurtured blossoms.
Take from the wall now, my song-tunëd lyre;        5
  Here will I sit and charm out the sweet pain
  Of a dark eye whose light hath burned my brain;
The unloving loveliness of my desire!
And here my ink, and here my papers, place:—
A hundred leaves of white whereon to trace        10
  A hundred words of desultory woe—
Words which shall last, like graven diamonds, sure;—
That, some day hence, a future race may know
  And ponder on the pain which I endure.

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