When the sweet days of summer come at last,
And leaves and flowers are in the forest springing;
When the cold time of winter’s overpast,
And every bird his own sweet song is singing;
Then will I sing,
And joyous be,
Of careless heart,
Elate and free;
For she, my lady sweet and sage,
Bids me, as ever wont, engage
In joyful mood to be.
Nor is it yet the spirit of the season–
The summer time — that makes my song so gay;
But softer thoughts, and yet a sweeter reason–
Love,– that o’er all my happy heart hath sway;
That with delight my soul will ceaseless turn
Tow’rd her, I ween of all the world the best:
And if my songs be sweet, well may they learn
Sweetness from her whose love my heart has blest.
And since that love is rightfully my boon,
Well may I hold her chief within my soul,
Who helps my numbers, gives me song and tune,
And her own grace diffuses o’er the whole.
For when I think of those dear eyes of hers,
Whence the bright light of love is ever breaking,
Delight and hope that happy thought confers,
And I am blest beyond the power of speaking.
(Jacques de Chison)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, World Poems, Mind Poems, Soul Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Flowers Poems, Power Poems, Summer Poems, Speaking Poems, Winter Poems, Singing PoemsBased on Keywords: diffuses, confers, rightfully