Iseult, Iseult, by the long waterways, Watching the wintry moon, white as a flower, I have remembered how once at Tintagil You heard the tread of Time hour after hour. By casements hung with night, while all your women slept, You turned toward Brittany, awake, alone, In the high chamber, hushed, save where the candle dripped With the slow patient sound of blood on stone. The ache of empty arms was an old tale to you, And all the tragic tunes that love can play, -- Yet with no woman born would you have changed your lot Though there were greater queens who had been gay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 8. FLORENCE by SARA TEASDALE TWO WITCHES: 1. THE WITCH OF COOS by ROBERT FROST THE WIND by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ON THE SUN COMING OUT IN THE AFTERNOON by HENRY DAVID THOREAU THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. DIET by JOHN ARMSTRONG |