Fair flower of fifteen springs, that still <br /> <br />Art scarcely blossomed from the bud, <br /> <br />Yet hast such store of evil will, <br /> <br />A heart so full of hardihood, <br /> <br />Seeking to hide in friendly wise <br /> <br />The mischief of your mocking eyes. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />If you have pity, child, give o’er; <br /> <br />Give back the heart you stole from me, <br /> <br />Pirate, setting so little store <br /> <br />On this your captive from Love’s sea, <br /> <br />Holding his misery for gain, <br /> <br />And making pleasure of his pain. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Another, not so fair of face, <br /> <br />But far more pitiful than you, <br /> <br />Would take my heart, if of his grace, <br /> <br />My heart would give her of Love’s due; <br /> <br />And she shall have it, since I find <br /> <br />That you are cruel and unkind. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Nay, I would rather that it died, <br /> <br />Within your white hands prisoning, <br /> <br />Would rather that it still abide <br /> <br />In your ungentle comforting. <br /> <br />Than change its faith, and seek to her <br /> <br />That is more kind, but not so fair.<br /><br />Pierre de Ronsard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-his-young-mistress-2/
