The Gold That Was Won Was Her Daughter Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

Rumplestiltskin without pity
All this gold cannot be spun
For the want of trollish mercy
Ah the golden wont be won
So to straw was she confined
And could naught her sorrow hide
When a dull bargain she had made
To cast her child into the Shades
Still she found a mercy mild
In the Heavens for her child
And she saved her from distress
And the ending you know best.
You by anger so possessed
Rumplestiltskin without pity
Wounded so by envy's shaft
Overthrown by his own wrath.
mary angela douglas 31 may 2024