There was a king in Thule, Right faithful to his grave, To whom his dying sweetheart A golden goblet gave. Naught else he loved above it, He emptied it every meal; And so he used to love it-- The tears from his eyes would steal. He felt that he was dying, And gave unto his heir The towns in his kingdom lying-- But not the goblet rare. He sat at the banquet royal In the old hall solemnly, With all his vassals loyal, In the castle by the sea. There stood the aged monarch And drank life's sunset glow; And cast the sacred goblet Into the flood below. He saw it rushing, drinking, Into the sea it sank. His eyelids old were sinking-- Ne'er more a drop he drank. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEEDLE THREADER IN NEED OF A NEEDLE by DARA WIER THE SELF-UNSEEING by THOMAS HARDY SONGS FOR THE PEOPLE by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER JOHN PELHAM by JAMES RYDER RANDALL A DESCRIPTION OF THE MORNING by JONATHAN SWIFT PORTRAIT OF A LADY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS: PART 2: 25. THE VIRGIN by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |