Explore "At Fontainebleau" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
At Fontainebleau, I saw a little bed / Fashioned of polished wood, with gold ornate, / Ambition, hope, and sorrow, ay, and hate / Once battled there, above a childish head, / And there in vain, grief wept, and memory plead / It was so small! but Ah, dear God, how great / The part it played in one sad woman's fate. / How wide the gloom, that narrow object shed.
The symbol of an over-reaching aim, / The emblem of a devastated joy, / It spoke of glory, and a blasted home: / Of fleeting honours, and disordered fame, / And the lone passing of a fragile boy.
It was the cradle of the King of Rome.