Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne

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    We were ten maidens in the green corn,
    Small red leaves in the mill-water:
    Fairer maidens never were born,
    Apples of gold for the kings daughter.

    We were ten maidens by a well-head,
    Small white birds in the mill-water:
    Sweeter maidens never were wed,
    Rings of red for the kings daughter.

    The first to spin, the second to sing,
    Seeds of wheat in the mill-water;
    The third may was a goodly thing,
    White bread and brown for the kings daughter.

    The fourth to sew and the fifth to play,
    Fair green weed in the mill-water;
    The sixth may was a goodly may,
    White wine and red for the kings daughter.

    The seventh to woo, the eighth to wed,
    Fair thin reeds in the mill-water;
    The ninth had gold work on her head,
    Honey in the comb for the kings daughter.

    The ninth had gold work round her hair,
    Fallen flowers in the mill-water;
    The tenth may was goodly and fair,
    Golden gloves for the kings daughter.

    We were ten maidens in a field green,
    Fallen fruit in the mill-water;
    Fairer maidens never have been,
    Golden sleeves for the kings daughter.

    By there comes the kings young son,
    A little wind in the mill-water;
    Out of ten maidens yell grant me one,
    A crown of red for the kings daughter.

    Out of ten mays yell give me the best,
    A little rain in the mill-water;
    A bed of yellow straw for all the rest,
    A bed of gold for the kings daughter.

    Hes taen out the goodliest,
    Rain that rains in the mill-water;
    A comb of yellow shell for all the rest,
    A comb of gold for the kings daughter.

    Hes made her bed to the goodliest,
    Wind and hail in the mill-water;
    A grass girdle for all the rest,
    A girdle of arms for the kings daughter.

    Hes set his heart to the goodliest,
    Snow that snows in the mill-water;
    Nine little kisses for all the rest,
    An hundredfold for the kings daughter.

    Hes taen his leave at the goodliest,
    Broken boats in the mill-water;
    Golden gifts for all the rest,
    Sorrow of heart for the kings daughter.

    Yell make a grave for my fair body,
    Running rain in the mill-water;
    And yell streek my brother at the side of me,
    The pains of hell for the kings daughter.

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Type of Poem: Ballad

Date Written:

Date Published:

Language: English

Keywords: Public Domain

Source: Public Domain Collection

Publisher:

Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Comments/Notes: This poem is a profound exploration of the themes of identity, femininity, and the dynamics of power. Its structure employs repetition in a manner reminiscent of traditional ballads or folk songs, with each stanza offering a variation on a theme, building a narrative about ten maidens, their qualities, and the king's son's selection of one.

The tone of the poem is both celebratory and melancholic, with the recurring phrase "for the king's daughter" suggesting a sense of high status and privilege. Yet, it also conveys a sense of tragedy towards the end, as the chosen maiden speaks of her grave and the stark "pains of hell." The poet uses rich imagery throughout, contrasting the golden items for the king's daughter with the simpler natural elements for the other maidens.

The mill-water is a standout metaphor, seemingly representing the passage of time, fate, or the relentless churn of societal expectations. The imagery of the maidens as "Small red leaves," "Small white birds," and "Seeds of wheat" underscores the fragility and fleeting nature of youth and beauty. The poem makes a powerful statement about the cost of privilege and the weight of expectations, adding complexity to what at first may seem like a simple tale of maidens and a prince.