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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=356179" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Prince's Progress (excerpt)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Too late for love, too late for joy,<br> Too late, too late!<br> You loitered on the road too long,<br> You trifled at the gate:<br> The enchanted dove upon her branch<br> Died without a mate.<br> The enchanted princess in her tower<br> Slept, died, behind the grate;<br> Her heart was starving all this while<br> You made it wait.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Ten years ago, five years ago,<br> One year ago,<br> Even then you had arrived in time,<br> Though somewhat slow;<br> Then you had known her living face<br> Which now you cannot know:<br> The frozen fountain would have leaped,<br> The buds gone on to blow,<br> The warm south wind would have awaked<br> To melt the snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Is she fair now as she lies?<br> Once she was fair;<br> Meet queen for any kingly king,<br> With gold-dust on her hair.<br> Now these are poppies in her locks,<br> White poppies she must wear;<br> Must wear a veil to shroud her face<br> And the want graven there:<br> Or is the hunger fed at length,<br> Cast off the care?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "We never saw her with a smile<br> Or with a frown;<br> Her bed seemed never soft to her,<br> Though tossed of down;<br> She little heeded what she wore,<br> Kirtle, or wreath, or gown;<br> We think her white brows often ached<br> Beneath her crown,<br> Till silvery hairs showed in her locks<br> That used to be so brown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "We never heard her speak in haste;<br> Her tones were sweet,<br> And modulated just so much<br> As it was meet:<br> Her heart sat silent through the noise<br> And concourse of the street.<br> There was no hurry in her hands,<br> No hurry in her feet;<br> There was no bliss drew nigh to her,<br> That she might run to greet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "You should have wept her yesterday,<br> Wasting upon her bed:<br> But wherefore should you weep to-day<br> That she is dead?<br> Lo we who love weep not to-day,<br> But crown her royal head.<br> Let be these poppies that we strew,<br> Your roses are too red:<br> Let be these poppies, not for you<br> Cut down and spread."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Christina+Georgina+Rossetti">Christina Georgina Rossetti</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=356179" data-title="The Prince's Progress (excerpt) de Christina Georgina Rossetti" data-description=""Too late for love, too late for joy, Too late, too late! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch Died without a mate. The enchanted princess in her tower Slept, died, behind the g..."></div> </div> </div>
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