Of all sweet forms within the enchanted air Of ancient legend, and of all sweet eyes, Thy form and glances ever the sweetest rise. To me thou art e'en than Guinevere more fair, And more bewitching thy deep blue-black hair Than gold wherein the heart of Lancelot lies: Thy gaze, full of the light of Irish skies, Hath never failed one poet-heart to snare.— From Tristram's knightly harp until to-day All singers own thee. When the great seas broke Beside Tintagel, thy strong spirit spoke And thy shape mingled with the sea-mists grey That floated round me. Centuries pass away: Thou art fair as when beside thee Tristram woke. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEALALL by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. BENJAMIN PANTIER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS BALL'S BLUFF; A REVERIE by HERMAN MELVILLE THE AUTHOR'S EPITAPH, MADE BY HIMSELF by WALTER RALEIGH EN PASSANT by EDITH COURTENAY BABBITT THE RELAPSE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT A BALLAD IN THE MANNER OF R-DY-RD K-PL-NG by GUY WETMORE CARRYL |