The Lady Godiva, all tender and fair, On shoulders and bosom her loose gold hair, With none but small birds flitting winsome to see, Rode bare in her beauty through Coventry. White was the palfrey Godiva did sit, Shrill rang his bridle-rein, clear clankt his bit; Youthful her cheek, and 'twas lovesomely bent On the streets of the township all shuttered and shent. Strange was that solitude. Strange 'twas to be The only soul stirring in hushed Coventry. And she blushed -- and laughed out -- when she chanced for to spy Through the chink of a shutter poor Tom's peeping eye. A child in his manners, how could he forbear To watch utter loveliness taking the air? Alas! -- but so marvellous bright she did shine There was naught left but dream in the dark of his eyne. 'Twas a secret between them; and false 'twere to say That Tom was a sorrowful man from that day. For pity brimmed deep in Godiva's clear mind, And of folk to be pitied there's none like the blind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE QUESTION by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE LUTE OBEYS by THOMAS WYATT THE DOOMED MAN by JOSEPH ADDISON ALEXANDER THE CRUSADERS' MARCH by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |