Dear Little Prince of Fairyland
The rose you hold in your outstretched hand
Is not half so sweet as the loving look
You bend from your page of my picture book
On the calm little princess over the way.
Do you win her or lose ? Do you go or stay ?
Ah, you wed, I know ! I have but to look
Over the page of my picture-book.
Dear little prince of Fairyland,
Is the red, red rose in your tight-clasped hand
For none but your princess, cold as fair?
Surely she’s many a love to spare!
She never would care if you went away !
Could you not step from your page, and stay
With a lone little maid who would love but you ?
(And ah, little prince, I would love you true!)
Cold little prince of Fairyland !
Silently, haughtily, still you stand.
“To none but my princess,” you seem to say,
“My rose and my love, though there come who may!”
And you’ll wed the princess- the book says so;
And I know you lived many a year ago;
Yet- ah, little prince, if you could but look
Loving but me from my picture-book!
by Margaret Widdemer
16 years of age
won the St Nicholas League prize with this poem which gave a $5 cash prize
avec beaucoup d’affectueux manières et bisous,