Explore "Rondeau. To W. E. Henley" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Dream and delight had passed away, / Their springs dried by the dusty day, / And sordid fetters bound me tight, / Forged for poor song by money-might; / I writhed, and could not get away.
There might have been no flowering may / In all the world -- life looked so gray / With dust of railways, choking quite / Dream and delight.
When, lo! your white book came my way, / With scent of honey-buds and hay, / Starshine and day-dawns pure and bright, / The rose blood-red, the may moon-white.
I owe you -- would I could repay -- / Dream and delight.