When the narrow streets were ringing
With the crying of the poor,
As the frozen fist of famine
Hammered hard on every door,
From the Chateau on the hill
And down across the valley floor
Came the hand and the heart
Of the Lady.
She carried from the bakery
Of the castle on the hill
An apronful of new-made loaves,
Her goodness to fulfil.
Against her husband's hard command
She took the manna still
And gave it with the heart
Of a Lady.
Again and yet again she came
The sun-fused earth to cross,
Carrying the bread of life
To lives so nearly lost
Until the hour her husband
Made her realise the cost
Of giving with the heart
Of a Lady.
"My Lady, tell me what is this
Your apron doth conceal?"
She shook her head, but still he pressed,
"Pray, tell me if you will!"
So should she lie, or yet allow
The truth to be revealed?
"I have roses, my Lord,"
Lied the Lady.
"So show me, madam, I must see
These roses which you hide,
For I believe you carry bread
And I believe you lied!"
And saying so, he tore her apron
Down the left-hand side
And crimson roses fell upon the highway.
"So show me, madam, I must see
These roses which you hide,
For I believe you carry bread
And I believe you lied!"
And saying so, he tore her apron
Down the left-hand side
And crimson roses fell upon the highway.