Classic Poem

Like Ragnor's rocks. He swore that she should wed
Sir Ralph of Normanhurst,
His sister's son.
Would not the Holy Church deem her accursed,
Dared she defy his will and marry one
Of her own choice! Were't so, 'twere better she were dead!

"Dear father, mine," Rowena pleaded sore,
On bended knee, "The heart
Belongs to God.
To wed where hallowed love can have no part
Were sin, deserving His all-chastening rod,
Whose blessing on such tie 'twere impious to implore."

"Sir Guy, my spouse, a mother's prayers, I too
Would blend with hers. O yield,
Our only child,
Possession sweet of woman's holy field--
Affection's glebe--a virgin soil denied
When wedlock makes those one whose hearts can ne'er beat true."