Rondeau Redouble

My day and night are in my lady's hand;
I have no other sunrise than her sight;
For me her favour glorifies the land;
Her anger darkens all the cheerful light.

Her face is fairer than the hawthorn white,
When all a-flower in May the hedge-rows stand;
Whilst she is kind, I know of none affright:
My day and night are in my lady's hand.

All heaven in her glorious eyes is spanned:
Her smile is softer than the Summer night,
Gladder than daybreak on the Faery strand:
I have no other sunrise than her sight.

Her silver speech is like the singing flight
Of runnels rippling o'er the jewelled sand,
Her kiss, a dream of delicate delight;
For me her favour glorifies the land.

What if the Winter slay the Summer bland!
The gold sun in her hair burns ever bright:
If she be sad, straightway all joy is banned;
Her anger darkens all the cheerful light.

Come weal or woe, I am my lady's knight
And in her service every ill withstand:
Love is my lord, in all the world's despite,
And holdeth in the hollow of his hand
My day and night.