The Prince
By Josephine Dodge Daskam
My heart it was a cup of gold
That at his lip did long to lie, But he hath drunk the red wine down, And tossed the goblet by. My heart it was a floating bird That through the world did wander free, But he hath locked it in a cage, And lost the silver key. My heart it was a white, white rose That bloomed upon a broken bough, He did but wear it for an hour, And it is withered now. |
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