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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XII
Work rating: Low

Dear royal France! I fix the happy year
 At forty--seven, because that Christmas--tide
 There passed through Pau the Duke of Montpensier,
 Fresh from his nuptials with his Spanish bride;
 And because I, unwilling, shared their pride,
 As youngest of the English children there,
 By offering flowers to the fair glorified
 Daughter of Bourbon standing on the stair--
 A point in history. When we came at last
 To this gay Paris I was doomed to love,
 There were already rumours of the blast
 That swept the Orleans songsters from their grove
 In flight to London, after Polignac
 And the true king, at their King Bourgeois` back.
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