Many a wooer had Lady Jean,
Knights and courtiers at beck and call;
But cold as the snow was she to all --
A lovely maid with a winsome mien.
One came armed with his money bags --
"See, I can give you gold, proud Jean!"?
The lady laughed, with a sigh between --
"The gold comes ready; the love tale lags."
A handsome knight with a haughty face
Swaggering into the courtyard came --
"I have the love of a Royal Dame;
Give me thy maid's love in its place."
Lady Jean curled a scornful lip --
"Go back to thy foolish light-o'-loves;
What do I care for a heart that roves,
Tossed on the waves, like a paper ship?"
At length one spoke with a noble air --
"I ask no guerdon for loving; still
My life is yours to make what you will:
Stain it with evil or paint it fair.
A peasant dares not to win a Queen."
Soft answered she -- "You have reached the goal;
You have brought me your own immortal soul.
Can a man do more?" quoth the Lady Jean.
First published in The Queenslander, 26 June 1897
