Page:Poems Rossetti.djvu/63

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS.
37
Where all birds made love to their kind.
Where jewels twinkled, and gold lay red
  And not hard to find.

Midway down the mountain side
(On its green slope the path was wide)
Stood a house for a royal bride,
Built all of changing opal stone,
The royal palace, till now descried
  In his dreams alone.

Less bold than in days of yore,
Doubting now though never before,
Doubting he goes and lags the more:
Is the time late? does the day grow dim?
Rose, will she open the crimson core
  Of her heart to him?

Above his head a tangle glows
Of wine-red roses, blushes, snows.
Closed buds and buds that unclose.
Leaves, and moss, and prickles too;
His hand shook as he plucked a rose,
  And the rose dropped dew.

Take heart of grace! the potion of Life
May go far to woo him a wife:
If she frown, yet a lover's strife
Lightly raised can be laid again;
A hasty word is never the knife
  To cut love in twain.