This poem of Pierre Ronsard (1542) is given a place here, as it is an example of that theme which is as old as love or life—the decay of youth and beauty—a subject which has been a favorite with poets in all times. The motive of this little lyric is that of Waller’s “Go, Lovely Rose,” and of Herrick’s “Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May.”

Come, my Mignonne, let us go—
Let us see if yonder rose,
That this morning did disclose
Robes of crimson to the sun,
Now that evening has begun,
Still with tints like yours does glow.

Ah, my Mignonne, look and see—
Look there, underneath the bough;
Short the space from then till now,
But its beauties all are past!
Scarce from morn till eve they last—
Such is nature’s harsh decree.

Ah, my Mignonne, trust to me;
While your youth as yet is seen
In its freshest, fairest green,
Seize the moments to enjoy;
Old age hastens to destroy
Roses, beauty, youth, and thee.