To A Red-Haired Beggar Girl

Pale girl with russet hair,     Tatters in what you wear     Show us your poverty     And your beauty,     For me, poor poet, in     The frail and freckled skin     Of your young flesh     Is a sweetness.     You move in shoes of wood     More gallantly than could     A velvet-buskined Queen     Playing a scene;     In place of rags for clothes     Let a majestic robe     Trail in its bustling pleats     Down to your feet;     Behind the holes in seams     Let a gold dagger gleam     Laid for the roue's eye     Along your thigh;     Let loosened ribbons, then,     Unveil us for our sins     Two breasts as undisguised     And bright as eyes;     As for your other charms,     Let your resistant arms     Frustrate with saucy blows     The groping rogues;     Pearls of a lustrous glow,     Sonnets penned by Belleau,     Suitors at your command     Constantly send,     Menial rhymsters, too,     Dedicate works to you;     Seeing your slipper there     Under the stair,     Pages and noble lords,     Would-be Ronsards galore,     Spy for the secret sweets     Of your retreat!     Lilies, in your alcove,     Count less than making love     You'd hold to lovers' law     Several Valois'     - Meanwhile, you beg to eat     Stale bread and tainted meat     Thrown from an alley door     Backstreet Vefour     And covet secretly     The cheapest jewellery     Which I (forgive me!) can't     Place in your hand.     Go then, a starveling girl     With no perfume or pearls,     Only your nudity     O my beauty!