Mine is a palace fair to see,
All hung with gold and silver things,
It is more glorious than a king’ s,
And crownèd queens might envy me.
Ah, no, I will not let you in!
Stay rather at the gates and weep
For all the splendour that I keep,
The treasures that you cannot win.
While you desire and I refuse,
For both the palace still is here —
Its turrets gold, its silver gear
Are yours to wish for — mine to use.
But if I let you in, I know
The spell would break, the palace fade,
And we stand, trembling and afraid,
Lost in the dark where chill winds blow.