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MUCH LOVE

(Beaucoup d'Amour.)

BÉRANGER.

I.

I know by sages we are told
To reckon riches vile;
I'm not a sage, and so of gold
I'd like a pretty pile.
It is not avarice; Oh no!
For Sophie's sake I'd have it so:
Oh, 't is, be sure,
Beaucoup d'amour;
Only love,—much love!

II.

And I would be a bard divine,
Her praises to prolong;
And link my Sophie's name with mine,
In never-dying song;
Yet if I thus aspire to claim
The poet's laurel wreath of fame,
Oh, 't is, be sure,
Beaucoup d'amour;
Only love,—much love!

III.

And I would be a sceptred king,
That Sophie might be seen
227

With all that royalty could bring
To grace my darling queen.
Ambition? No; for her alone
I 'd wish to sit upon a throne:
Oh, 't is, be sure,
Beaucoup d'amour;
Only love,—much love!

IV.

Yet why, Oh why, would I possess
These shining gifts of Fate?
For love has more of happiness
Than fortune, fame, or state:
So let them go; I'll not repine;
The sweetest treasure still is mine:
Oh, 't is, be sure,
Beaucoup d'amour;
Only love,—much love!
previous section The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe
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