Explore "The Minstrel and the Princess" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ I. He had no hope to win her hand, / A harper in a loveless land, / And yet he sang of love; / And marked the blue vein of her throat / Swell with mute rage at every note: / And when he ceased she spake him then, -- / "Such whining slaves are less than men! " / And anger in her dark eyes wrote / Contempt thereof.
/ II. He had no hope to win her hand, / A harper in a hostile land, / And yet he sang of peace; / And marked how mock'ry curled her lip / With scorn as, 'neath each finger-tip, / The chords breathed pastoral content: / Till haughtiness, that beauty lent / To beauty, sneered, "Would'st feel the whip? -- / O fool, surcease!"