Francis, you realize, from loving Ile-de-France, how a country or a town, adorned with a fair name, more than its neighbours may command our confidence, and this fair name to rank among its gifts may claim. The forest of Crecy through which proceeds the road that leads me to Mortcerf -- its name pronounced aloud charms like a fairy flight that steals from elfin grots to wheel about a knight who, whelmed by sorrow's load, slumbers beside a spring, 'mid blue forget-me-nots. A country by its name our senses should delight, or one can never come to full intelligence, complete accord. You love, my Francis, Ilede-France. To your name its fair name a joyous troth doth plight, and your art and yourself join to its dowry bright. How the names Nemours, Senlis, my beating heart beguile! When I murmur them aloud, oh! what pure joy I feel! Senlis, Nemours, why, look . . . in faith, I almost kneel. O Nemours, that's all despair, O Senlis, that's all smile, lilies, and turtledoves, farewell, dear names of song! I give myself anew, to Mortcerf I belong. Mortcerf, the sounding horn, all the Fall in fresco set. ----But it is not autumn yet? -- Ah, well, 'tis all the same. Come staff, I take the road for Mortcerf of fair name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CASTAWAY by WILLIAM COWPER IN THE OLD SOUTH CHURCH; 1677 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER CHRISTMAS EPITHALAMIUM by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. ROBIN REDBREAST by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM TO ENGLISH CONNOISSEURS by WILLIAM BLAKE |