Explore "The Troll's Nosegay" by Robert Graves on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A simple nosegay! was that much to ask? / (Winter still gloomed, with scarce a bud yet showing). / He loved her ill, if he resigned the task. / "Somewhere," she cried, "there must be blossom blowing. " / It seems my lady wept and the troll swore / By Heaven he hated tears: he'd cure her spleen; / Where she had begged one flower, he'd shower fourscore, / A haystack bunch to amaze a China Queen.
Cold fog-drawn Lily, pale mist-magic Rose / He conjured, and in a glassy cauldron set / With elvish unsubstantial Mignonette / And such vague bloom as wandering dreams enclose. / But she? / Awed, / Charmed to tears, / Distracted, / Yet -- / Even yet, perhaps, a trifle piqued -- who knows?