THE CAPTIVE
by: Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(1850-1919)
- Y lady is robed for the ball to-night,
- All in a shimmer and silken sheen.
- She glides down the stairs like a thing of light,
- The ballroom's beautiful queen.
-
- Priceless gems on her bosom glow--
- Half hid by laces a queen might wear.
- Robed is she, as befits, you know,
- The wife of a millionaire.
-
- Gliding along at her liege lord's side,
- Out-shining all in that company,
- Into the mind of the old man's bride
- There creeps a curious simile.
-
- She thinks how once in the Long Ago,
- A beautiful captive, all aflame
- With jewels that weighed her down like woe,
- Close in the wake of her captor came.
-
- All day long in that mocking plight,
- She followed him in a dumb despair;
- And the people thought her a goodly sight,
- Decked in her jewels rare.
-
- And now at her lawful master's side,
- With a pain in her heart, as great as then
- (So thinks this old man's beautiful bride),
- Zenobia walks again.
"The Captive" is reprinted
from Yesterdays. Ella Wheeler Wilcox. London: Gay &
Hancock, 1916. |
MORE POEMS BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX |
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