Who is Franaois Villon

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Franaois Villon Poems

  • Rondel
    Goodbye! the tears are in my eyes;
    Farewell, farewell, my prettiest;
    Farewell, of women born the best;
    Good-bye! the saddest of good-byes. ...
  • Le Testament: Ballade: A S'amye
    F alse beauty that costs me so dear,
    R ough indeed, a hypocrite sweetness,
    A mor, like iron on the teeth and harder,
    N amed only to achieve my sure distress, ...
  • Le Testament: Ballade: -item: Donne A Ma Povre Mere'
    <i>Item</i>

    This I give to my poor mother
    As a prayer now, to our Mistress ...
  • Le Testament: Rondeau
    Death, I cry out at your harshness,
    That stole my girl away from me,
    Yet you're not satisfied I see
    Until I languish in distress. ...
  • Le Testament: Les Regrets De La Belle Heaulmière
    By chance, I heard the belle complain,
    The one we called the Armouress,
    Longing to be a girl again,
    Talking like this, more or less: ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Franaois Villon

God 12 Love 10 I Love You 10 Poor 8 Pain 7 Good 7 Live 7 Away 7 Heart 7 Never 6


Franaois Villon Quotes

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Comments about Franaois Villon

__oana: oh c'mon people, it was a quote from françois villon! just one like? i thought i was brilliant sneeze sneeze cough i'm out of wine help!
Caftanwoman: conrad veidt born this date (1893-1943). here's connie as louis xi with john barrymore as francois villon in 1927s...
Friends_alice: 'are you alive now?' find out in michael wyndham's debut poetry collection. discover a cast of characters, such as...
Francois_villon: eric clapton & b.b. king - riding with the king album: riding with the king (
Francois_villon: christy moore - the magdalene laundries (joni mitchell) album: burning times (
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Poem of the day

Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

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