Prince to Kitchenmaid

I walk towards you over glass and eggshell;
The crust may crumble at a breath;
Smile on my tentative steps and wish me well,
For burning embers lie beneath.
This fragile bridge laid lightly on destruction
Marks the ending of my quest.
I have passed each other hazard, won each action;
And yet I could have wished the test
Harder; could have spared the quick assistance
Of spells—yes, and of women, too—
To face the dragon or walk the weary distance
With no enchanted sword or shoe.
I have deceived you—swung on a reputation,
Worn borrowed armour, cut a dash
With magic weapons in a situation
Contrived for glory. But see, my flesh
Is mortal; my face is still my own face,
Bearing no elfin mark or seal;
Those brief bewitchments left no lasting trace.
And you too know the use of guile:
I have seen you dancing in a dress of starlight,
Pearled with a glittering disguise—
And yet, should I have known you in your right
Aspect, crouching with red eyes
Over a smoky hearth? No: we have both
Taken the help that came our way.
We need no mirrors to ward off the truth
From one another. And see, today,
My brittle path: I walk over real
Fires to where | see you stand,
Neither grimy nor spangled but quiet and pale.
A few steps more. Hold out your hand.