The princess has her lovers, A score of knights has she, And each can sing a madrigal, And praise her gracefully. But Love that is so bitter Hath put within her heart A longing for the scornful knight Who silent stands apart. And tho the others praise and plead, She maketh no reply, Yet for a single word from him, I ween that she would die.
Return to the Sara Teasdale library , or . . . Read the next poem; A Song To Eleonora Duse In "Francesca da Rimini "