Pierre de Ronsard
Pierre de Ronsard Poems
- To His Young Mistress Fair flower of fifteen springs, that ...
- Roses I send you here a wreath of blossoms blown, And woven...
- The Rose See, Mignonne, hath not the Rose, That this ...
- On His Ladies Waking My lady woke upon a morning fair, What...
- To The Moon Hide this one night thy crescent, kindly Moon; ...
- Deadly Kisses All take these lips away; no more, No more ...
- Ladys Tomb As in the gardens, all through May, the rose, ...
Pierre de Ronsard (11 September 1524 – 28 December 1585) was a French poet and "prince of poets" (as his own generation in France called him).
Pierre de Ronsard was born at the Manoir de la Possonnière, in the village of Couture-sur-Loir, Vendômois (in present-day Loir-et-Cher). Baudouin de Ronsard or Rossart was the founder of the French branch of the house, and made his mark... more »
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Comments about Pierre de Ronsard
To His Young Mistress
Fair flower of fifteen springs, that still
Art scarcely blossomed from the bud,
Yet hast such store of evil will,
A heart so full of hardihood,
Seeking to hide in friendly wise
The mischief of your mocking eyes.
If you have pity, child, give o’er;
Give back the heart you stole from me,
Pirate, setting so little store
On this your captive from Love’s sea,
Holding his misery for gain,
And making pleasure of his pain.
Another, not so fair of face,
But far more pitiful than you,
Would take my heart, if of his grace,
My heart would...