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Pomona: Poem by William Morris

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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.

Analysis of this poem

More verses by William Morris

  • Near Avalon
  • Summer
  • King Arthur's Tomb
  • Shameful Death
  • All For The Cause

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