Turtledove out of grace

Turtledove out of grace,

Who coo you evermore,

Lend me your wing a space

For love’s sake I implore!

Like you, bereft mistress,

Absent from my ringdove,

I weep in sore distress

An unforgetting love.

Fly and let your pink feet

On neither tree nor tower

Rest them a moment sweet,

For of love I expire.

Avoid, my little dove,

A stop amid the palms

And those roofs the wood-dove

In a great snow becalms.

Go right to her window,

Near the house of the king,

Give her quickly this note

And two kisses for me.

To my breast a hot coal

Which never can find ease,

Come, with her very soul,

Come rest you if you please.

Théophile Gautier