The well-dressed throng of women murmured -- stirred; The singer faced them -- bland and calm of mien. How could he know what miracle occurred For her who thought she could not dream again -- She was a princess, slender, tall, and fair, Whose casement opened slowly to the night That she might lean to throw a red rose where A troubadour stood singing in the night. How short are dreams! His magic notes were stilled -- She tucked a white curl close and smoothed her dress. The promise of her years had been fulfilled -- This youth approached the brink of happiness. With studied grace she poured and passed his tea -- Spoke graciously, "Your songs enchanted me!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE PEOPLES by CLAUDE MCKAY RESURRECTION, IMPERFECT by JOHN DONNE ODE INSCRIBED TO W.H. CHANNING by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE NIGHT OF TRAFALGAR by THOMAS HARDY THE BRAES OF YARROW by JOHN LOGAN (1748-1788) THE CAT OF CATS by WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS ON THE DEATH OF LITTLE MAHALA ASHCRAFT by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY |