Pierre de Ronsard - When You Are Old lyrics

When you sit aging under evening's star By hearth and candle, spinning yarns and wool, You'll sing my verse in awe and say "Ronsard Wrought song of me when I was beautiful" Hearing such words, your serving-maid that night, Though half-asleep from drudging, all the same Will wake at my name's sound and stand upright Hailing the d**hless praises of your name. I'll be a boneless phantom resting sound Amid the myrtly shades far underground. You, by the hearth, a crone bent low in sorrow For your proud scorn that willed my love away. Live now, I beg of you. Wait not the morrow. Gather the roses of your life today.