Gray is the palace where she dwells, <br />Grimly the poplars stand <br />There by the window where she sits, <br />My Lady of Castle Grand. <br /> <br />There does she bide the livelong day, <br />Grim as the poplars are, <br />Ever her gaze goes reaching out, <br />Steady, but vague and far. <br /> <br />Bright burn the fires in the castle hall, <br />Brightly the fire-dogs stand; <br />But cold is the body and cold the heart <br />Of my Lady of Castle Grand. <br /> <br />Blue are the veins in her lily-white hands, <br />Blue are the veins in her brow; <br />Thin is the line of her blue drawn lips, <br />Who would be haughty now? <br /> <br />Pale is the face at the window-pane, <br />Pale as the pearl on her breast, <br />'Roderick, love, wilt come again? <br />Fares he to east or west?' <br /> <br />The shepherd pipes to the shepherdess, <br />The bird to his mate in the tree, <br />And ever she sighs as she hears their song, <br />'Nobody sings for me.' <br /> <br />The scullery maids have swains enow <br />Who lead them the way of love, <br />But lonely and loveless their mistress sits <br />At her window up above. <br /> <br />Loveless and lonely she waits and waits, <br />The saddest in all the land; <br />Ah, cruel and lasting is love-blind pride, <br />My Lady of Castle Grand.<br /><br />Paul Laurence Dunbar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-lady-of-castle-grand/
