A Rondeau For The Wild Rose
The briars grew as kingdoms slept
While widows spun and deftly crept
Amidst the silent-slumb’ring rows
Of frozen faces; dancing toes
In places even gods have wept.
None ’fore or since have e’er swept
Amidst this living tomb unkept.
Within the palace of the crows
The briars grew
Perhaps a hapless prince hath wept
O’er sweet princess shoes unstepped?
Forever longing? He ’lone knows.
Throughout this place no tread now goes,
Where would-be lovers might’ve leapt,
The briars grew.