If your fair hand had not made a sign to me then,
White hand that makes you a daughter of the swan,
I'd have died, Helen, of the rays from your eyes:
But that gesture towards me saved a soul in pain:
Your eye was pleased to carry away the prize,
Yet your hand to grant me life again.
White hand that makes you a daughter of the swan,
I'd have died, Helen, of the rays from your eyes:
But that gesture towards me saved a soul in pain:
Your eye was pleased to carry away the prize,
Yet your hand to grant me life again.
Ronsard
