Poetry Archives

Her old love in tears and silence had been building her a palace
  Ringed by moats and flanked with towers, he had set it on a hill
“Here,” he said, “will come no whisper of the world’s alarms and
    malice,
  In these granite walls imprisoned, I will keep you safe from ill.”

As he spoke along the highway there came riding by a stranger,
  For an instant on her features, he a fleeting glance bestowed,
Then he said: “My heart is fickle and the world is full of danger,”
  And he offered her his stirrup and he pointed down the road.