Sleeping Beauty. A Parable.

You remember the nursery legend                 We heard in the early days,             Ere we knew of the world's deception                 Or walked in its dusty ways,             And dwelt in a land of the fairies                 Where the air was golden haze             Of the maid, o'er whom the Summers                 Of youth passed, like a swell             Of melody all unbroken,                 Till evil wrought its spell,             And dream-embroidered curtains                 Of slumber round her fell.             The wood grew up round her castle,                 The centuries o'er it rolled,             Wrapping its slumb'rous turrets                 In clinging robes of mould,             And her name became a legend                 By Winter fire-sides told.             Till the Prince came over the mountains                 In the morning-glow of youth;             The forest sank before him                 Like wrong before the truth,             And he passed the dim old portal,                 With its warders so uncouth,             Woke with a kiss the Princess,                 And broke enchantment's chain,             The sleepy old castle wondered,                 In its cobweb-cumbered brain,             At the tide of life and pleasure                 That poured through each stony vein.             And so love conquered an evil                 Centuries old in might,             Scattering drowsy glamour,                 Piercing the murky night,             Leading from thrall and darkness                 Beauty, and joy, and light.