NOW whether land or water win, The sky will still be drear; There's no place for King Avelin Who built his palace here. Between the river and the tide Only one street may stand, But once the streets were seven and wide Before men came to the sand. King Avelin steered out of the North, In the time of the swans' flight; And whence his dark ships issued forth None knew but a fog-bank white. "This lonely haven is deep and clear, This land will hold my folk; And I shall build my palace here, Beyond the Hairfair's yoke." His daughter had a golden gown That left her young neck bare, And in the tower among the town She washed her golden hair: Through the window-hole she bowed And dropped it in the sky; She dried it till that waving cloud Could make men's hearts beat high. She washed her hair, she combed her hair By night as well as day; She swung it on the midnight air To meet the rising spray. She combed, and wrought the waking spell Of the oldest wind on the sea -- "For then," she said, "the sea's swell Will bring a lover to me." The sea grew, the sky sank; Streets made the long waves fret; The river ran without a bank; The housewives' knees were wet. Tower and town, pine-wood and willow Melted as though by rain; And once the trough of a piling billow Was paved with a golden mane. King Avelin, King Avelin Won to no kingly bier: Ah, where is now King Avelin Who built his palace here? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BOTTLES AND THE WINE by GEORGE SANTAYANA ONCE BY THE PACIFIC by ROBERT FROST THE TRANSLATION by MARK VAN DOREN POEM FOR PICTURE: TO A PORTRAIT BY EDWARD STEICHEN (RACHMANINOFF) by FRANK ANKENBRAND JR. WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF OUR BELOVED GENERAL STONEWALL JACKSON by CAROLINE AUGUSTA BALL THE HOUREGLASSE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |