Gather, gather your youth: Just like this flower, old age Your beauty will wither.
Pierre de RonsardWhen you are very old, and sit in the candle - light at evening spinning by the fire, you will say, as you murmur my verses, a wonder in your eyes, 'Ronsard sang of me in the days when I was fair.
Pierre de RonsardWhen you are old, at evening candlelit, Beside the fire bending to your wool, Read out my verse and murmur, "Ronsard writ This praise for me when I was beautiful.
Pierre de Ronsard