To Madame Cne T, Poem by Alfred De Musset

Poem by Alfred De Musset Collection New PoemsPeriod 19th century

Rondeau.

In its plate, softly rounded,
A hot pie, of a delectable look,
From a little too far gently drew me.
I was going toward it. Your charitable instinct
Made you rise to offer it to me gaily.

Jove, whom Hebe was making tipsy in the firmament,
Seeing thus Venus serving at table,
Let his glass fall in astonishment
Into his plate.

Could I then pay you a compliment?
Grace escapes, it is inexpressible;
Words are made for what we find amiable,
Looks alone for what we see as charming;
And I had not my wits at that moment
In their plate.

Alfred De Musset

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