Love’s Envoy in the Tuileries Garden

Poem by Guy De Maupassant Period 19th century

Come running, little child whose mother I adore,
Who comes to sit upon this bench to watch you play,
Pale, with the hair one dreams upon her Chimera
And which seems touched with gold by evening’s stars.
Come here, little child, give me your rosy lip,
Give me your big blue eyes and your curly hair;
I shall make them bear a burden of kisses,
So that, returned to Her side at nightfall,
When your arms come to close again around her neck,
She may find on your lip and in your hair
Something ardent as a burning brand!
Something gentle as a need to love!
Then she will say, trembling and troubled
By this call of love her heart fights off,
Gathering all my kisses from your curly head:
“What is it I feel, then, on my child’s brow?”

Guy de Maupassant

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