To M. V. H., Poem by Alfred De Musset

Poem by Alfred De Musset Collection New PoemsPeriod 19th century

Sonnet.

In this low world, one must love many things,
To know, after all, what one loves the best,
Candies, the Ocean, gambling, the blue of the skies,
Women, horses, laurels, and roses.

One must trample underfoot flowers barely blooming;
One must weep much, say many goodbyes.
Then the heart perceives that it has grown old,
And the effect that fades reveals to us the causes.

Of these passing goods that we taste by halves,
The best that remains to us is an old friend.
We quarrel, we flee each other. Let chance bring us together,

We approach, we smile, hand touches hand,
And we remember that we walked together,
That the soul is immortal, and that yesterday is tomorrow.

Alfred De Musset

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