Goblin Market, The Prince's Progress, and Other Poems

She thought of Jeanie in her grave,
Who should have been a bride;
But who for joys brides hope to have
Fell sick and died
In her gay prime,
In earliest Winter time
With the first glazing rime,
With the first snow-fall of crisp Winter time.

Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;
She sucked until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away
But gathered up one kernel stone,
And knew not was it night or day
As she turned home alone.

She sucked and sucked and sucked the more

In tones as smooth as honey

Laura stared but did not stir,
Longed but had no money:
The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste

Their hungry thirsty roots?'

'We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed