I am the ancient apple-queen,
As once I was so am I now.
For evermore a hope unseen,
Betwixt the blossom and the bough.
Ah, where's the river's hidden Gold!
And where the windy grave of Troy?
Yet come I as I came of old,
From out the heart of Summer's joy.
Pomona
William Morris
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Poem topics: heart, hope, joy, river, summer, hidden, apple, ancient, queen, gold, grave, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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