Memories of Fontainebleau
Time cannot shroud the glory once bright,
Nor can the world forget its trace of light.
Here, your hearts once deeply cared—
In stone, in canvas, in beauty shared.
You forged a golden age with grace,
Where monarchs, saints, and heroes had their place.
Though they are gone, their echoes stay,
Where Le Grand Parterre blooms each May.
And still Diana’s statue stands,
A huntress waiting, bow in hands.
Perhaps, one day, time’s spell will rise,
And all return, before our eyes—
To her most splendid, golden guise.
—— A.G
Flora’s Return
Who wakes the blossoms of the spring,
And breaks the spell of winter’s sting?
Who stirs the buds in joyful flight,
And crowns the air with bloom and light?
You step from myths of olden days,
To Renaissance halls in golden haze—
Fontainebleau, where art and grace
Embrace the earth in spring’s embrace.
You bring the gifts of field and glade
To courtly feasts in soft parade.
A goddess born of bloom and breath,
You guard both life and love from death.
In every flower, your tale is spun—
A myth reborn with morning sun.
—— A.G