Page:Early poems of William Morris.djvu/124



, being in the wood near the tower,

in the evening

I could not even think

What made me weep that day,

When out of the council-hall

The courtiers pass'd away,—

Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

Let down your hair!

Is it not true that every day

She climbeth up the same strange way,

Her scarlet cloak spread broad and gay,

Over my golden hair?

And left me there alone,

To think on what they said;

"Thou art a king's own son,

'Tis fit that thou should'st wed."

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