Two sisters there, whose arms were interlaced, Stood to consult a fortune-telling hag: While she with wrinkled fingers slowly placed The fatal cards upon an outspread rag. Brunette and blonde, both fresh as morning's hour,. A poppy brown, a white anemone; One like a May bud, one an Autumn flower, Both yearned alike their destiny to see. "Sorrow, alas! my child, thy life must fill," The old witch murmured to the proud brunette: The girl enquired, "But will he love me still?" "Yes." "Then I care not—life is happy yet." "Thou wilt not own thy lover's heart, sweet maid!" This to the second sister, white as snow: "But shall I love him?" tearfully she said. "Yes." "That is bliss enough for me to know." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHITE AN' BLUE by WILLIAM BARNES TO SIR HENRY WOTTON (1) by JOHN DONNE MY LADY'S TEARS by JOHN DOWLAND TO THE PIOUS MEMORY OF THE YOUNG LADY MRS. ANNE KILLIGREW by JOHN DRYDEN INTO BATTLE by JULIAN GRENFELL BYRON by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER VERSES, SUGGESTED BY THE FUNERAL OF AN EPITAPH IN BURY CHURCH-YARD by BERNARD BARTON |