Hilltop: A Literary Paper. Volume 1 Number 2
3 Sonnets for Helen, XLIII
3 Sonnets for Helen, XLIII
When you are old and sit at evening there
Beside the fire, and draw and spin your thread
You'll speak my lines and say astonished:
Ronsard my praises sang when I was fair.
Then all your handmaids, when you thus declare,
Though each with toiling nods a weary head,
Will by my name be straight awakened
And sing you praise that time shall not impair..
I shall be deep interred; my bloodless shade
Will rest in shadows of the myrtle glade:
And you'll sit by the hearth, a bent old wife,
Remorseful for my love and your pround scorn
Live, I implore you, wait no other morn:
Gather to-day the crimson bloom of life.