Nay, tell me now in what strange air <br />The Roman Flora dwells to-day. <br />Where Archippiada hides, and where <br />Beautiful Thais has passed away? <br />Whence answers Echo, afield, astray, <br />By mere or stream,--around, below? <br />Lovelier she than a woman of clay; <br />Nay, but where is the last year's snow? <br /> <br />Where is wise Heloise, that care <br />Brought on Abeilard, and dismay? <br />All for her love he found a snare, <br />A maimed poor monk in orders grey; <br />And where's the Queen who willed to slay <br />Buridan, that in a sack must go <br />Afloat down Seine,--a perilous way - <br />Nay, but where is the last year's snow? <br /> <br />Where's that White Queen, a lily rare, <br />With her sweet song, the Siren's lay? <br />Where's Bertha Broad-foot, Beatrice fair? <br />Alys and Ermengarde, where are they? <br />Good Joan, whom English did betray <br />In Rouen town, and burned her? No, <br />Maiden and Queen, no man may say; <br />Nay, but where is the last year's snow? <br /> <br />ENVOY. <br /> <br />Prince, all this week thou need'st not pray, <br />Nor yet this year the thing to know. <br />One burden answers, ever and aye, <br />'Nay, but where is the last year's snow?'<br /><br />Andrew Lang<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballade-of-dead-ladies/
