Corona Inutilis

I TWINED a wreath of heather white
To bind my lady’s hair,
And deemed her locks in even light
Would well the burden bear;
But when I saw the tresses brown,
And found the face so fair,
I tore the wreath, and left the crown
Of beauty only there.

by James Lister Cuthbertson

Other poems of CUTHBERTSON (8)

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