Dora Sigerson Shorter

“ Who kissed the maid on her death-cold cheek.
And held her close lest her heart should break.
⁠“My love will come too late.”
The King strode on with a fearsome frown,
⁠O, for the book and bell!
His weeping Queen in her silken gown.
⁠Long is the tale to tell.
The Princess wan as the March moonlight,
Who cried alone, all a doleful sight,
Of slighted hope and of broken plight.
⁠A slow love is not well. ”

“ To wed with a maid all sad as she,
Whose heart he knew his could never be.
⁠0, for a good cross-bow!
Now when they came to the great church-door,
⁠Sing hey for the wedding-ring!
The maid she fell to a passion sore;
⁠Hark how the choir-boys sing!
“This deed,” she said, “I do scorn and hate,
And would it save me from my sad fate,
I'd wed the beggar beside the gate.”
⁠Ah, love is a grievous thing! ”