Helen Hunt Jackson (1830–1885)

THE DAUGHTER of a king, how should I know

That there were tinsels wearing face of gold,

And worthless glass, which in the sunlight’s hold

Could shameless answer back my diamond’s glow

With cheat of kindred fire? The currents slow,

And deep, and strong, and stainless, which had rolled

Through royal veins for ages, what had told

To them that hasty heat and lie could show

As quick and warm a red as theirs?

Go free!

The sun is breaking on the sea’s blue shield

Its golden lances; by their gleam I see

Thy ship’s white sails. Go free, if scorn can yield

Thee freedom!

Then, alone, my love and I,—

We both are royal; we know how to die.