<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=546171" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ballad III</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now in good sooth my joy is vanished clean, <br>And all my gladness changed to grievous ire : <br>What profits it, dear flower ! since I have seen <br>Thy going hence, that I could never tire </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When thou wast here <br>To greet thee every day in every year ? <br>Delight that was is grown disaster fell : <br>Alas ! How can I bid thee now farewell ! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My love, my choice, my lady and my queen, <br>For whom my heart is kindled in desire, <br>What shall I do when love from what hath been <br>Taketh the gold and leaveth me the mire ? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor far nor near </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is comfort found, nor any pleasant cheer. <br>Gone is thy beauty, that did all excel : <br>Alas ! How can I bid thee now farewell ! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thine is the deed, O evil tongue and keen ! <br>Forged for my fate upon an anvil dire : <br>Fortune, that loveth not my hand, I ween, <br>Nor yet my pen, did in the task conspire. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No help is clear </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Save Death, when God shall grant him to appear <br>Else thou alone could'st win me out of hell. <br>Alas ! How can I bid thee now farewell ! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, simple and dear ! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">At least behold me and my mourning drear. <br>Thy loss is torment more than I can tell. <br>Alas ! How can I bid thee now farewell !</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Christine+de+Pizan">Christine de Pizan</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=546171" data-title="Ballad III de Christine de Pizan" data-description="Now in good sooth my joy is vanished clean, And all my gladness changed to grievous ire : What profits it, dear flower ! since I have seen Thy going hence, that I could never tire When thou wast here To greet thee every day in every year ? ..."></div> </div> </div>

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