TAKE as gold this old tradition Of the royal-rendered wage, Guerdon of love's mad ambition In the true heart of a page. He, his passion vainly hiding, Worn and pale with hopeless pain, Through the summer woods was riding Close beside his mistress' rein. "Why so sad, my page?" and turning, Gazed she straight into his eyes. "T is thy thought my bosom burning With a flame that never dies." Flushed she then, but answered, "Carest Thou to feed the flame I bring? Look me full, and if thou darest, Kiss the daughter of the king." Stark he stood, all wonders mingling, Then from heart to finger-tips Rushed the heated life-blood tingling As he seized upon her lips. Crushing newborn awe with laughter, Said she, "Thus must end thy pain; See thou never more hereafter Lookest for like grace again." Spake he glad: "Each leaf that glitters In the sun thy gift hath seen; Every bird that sings and twitters Knoweth where my lips have been. "And the winds from dawn to vesper, Blow they north or blow they south, Softly in my ear shall whisper, 'Thou hast kissed Schone Rothraut's mouth.' "Every floweret of the meadow, Every bird upon the tree, In life's sunshine or its shadow, Shall bring back my joy to me." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE NOTHING I by HAYDEN CARRUTH WE CAN'T WRITE OURSELVES INTO ETERNAL LIFE by DAVID IGNATOW THE DOLL BELIEVERS by CLARENCE MAJOR JOHN WILKES BOOTH AT THE FARM (JANUARY 12, 1848) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: REV. LEMUEL WILEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |