After an Epigram of Clement Marot

 The lad I was I longer now 
Nor am nor shall be evermore.
 
Spring's lovely blossoms from my brow 
Have shed their petals on the floor.
 
Thou, Love, hast been my lord, thy shrine 
Above all gods' best served by me.
 
Dear Love, could life again be mine 
How bettered should that service be!

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