THE BLACK PRINCESS.A TRUE FABLE OF MY OLD KENTUCKY NURSE.
I knew a Princess: she was old,
Crisp-haired, flat-featured, with a look
Such as no dainty pen of gold
Would write of in a Fairy Book.
Crisp-haired, flat-featured, with a look
Such as no dainty pen of gold
Would write of in a Fairy Book.
So bent she almost crouched, her face
Was like the Sphinx's face, to me,
Touched with vast patience, desert grace,
And lonesome, brooding mystery.
Was like the Sphinx's face, to me,
Touched with vast patience, desert grace,
And lonesome, brooding mystery.
What wonder that a faith so strong
As hers, so sorrowful, so still,
Should watch in bitter sands so long,
Obedient to a burdening will!
As hers, so sorrowful, so still,
Should watch in bitter sands so long,
Obedient to a burdening will!
This Princess was a Slave—like one
I read of in a painted tale;
Yet free enough to see the sun,
And all the flowers, without a veil.
I read of in a painted tale;
Yet free enough to see the sun,
And all the flowers, without a veil.
