You bid me try, Blue Eyes, to write
A Rondeau. What! Forthwith!--Tonight?
Reflect. Some skill I have, 'tis true;
But thirteen lines!--and rhymed on two!--
'Refrain,' as well. Ah, hapless plight!
Still, there are five lines--ranged aright.
These Gallic bonds, I feared, would fright
My easy Muse. They did, till you--
You bid me try!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem