Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/335



green apple-boughs That never a storm will rouse, My lady hath her house Between two bowers; In either of the twain Red roses full of rain; She hath for bondwomen All kind of flowers.

She hath no handmaid fair To draw her curled gold hair Through rings of gold that bear Her whole hair’s weight; She hath no maids to stand Gold-clothed on either hand; In all the great green land None is so great.