Cicely Fox Smith

(1 February 1882 – 8 April 1954 / Lymm, Cheshire)

Rhodalind - Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

In the palace garden-close
Many a flower buds and blows, -
Many a lily, ne'er a rose;
And, when on the purple fells
Hum the bees in heather bells, -
Dreamy eyes and listless mind,
Wandered there Queen Rhodlind.

When the sun drew toward the West,
There she walked, in splendour drest,
And her head drooped on her breast,
And her pale lips never smiled
As the summer hours she whiled, -
Pluckt the lilies, passing by, -
Heedless, let them fall and die.

But as once she wandered slow
Where the flowers bud and blow,
In the summer sunshine's glow,
Close against the eastern wall
Where the slanting sunbeams fall,
Scenting all the sleepy air,
Lo! a rose-tree blossomed there.

And to pluck its flowers she sped
Till her snowy hands were red
With the blood its thorns had shed;
And she reveled 'mid her bowers,
Till her lips were like her flowers,
Ruddy as the reddest rose,
Blooming in her garden-close.

Comments about Rhodalind by Cicely Fox Smith

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Monday, August 30, 2010

[Report Error]