When 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.'
When 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.'
Live now, believe me, wait not till tomorrow Gather the roses of life today.
Gather, gather your youth Just like this flower, old age Your beauty will wither.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories