YE songs! O my trusty numbers! Up, up! and on with your arms Bid the trumpet to blow, And raise high on my shield The youthful maiden, Who's now to rule my heart, My undivided heart, as queen. Hail to thee, youthful queen! From the sun on high Tear I his sparkling ruddy gold, And of it weave a diadem For thine anointed head. From the fluttering blue-silken heaven's veil, Wherein night's diamonds are gleaming, Cut I a costly piece, And hang, as coronation mantle, Upon thy regal shoulders. I give to thee, as courtiers, Some well-bedizen'd sonnets, Haughty terzinas and courtly stanzas; My wit shall serve thee as footman, And as court-fool my phantasy, As herald, the laughing tears on my scutcheon, My humour shall serve thee. But I, O my queen, Before thee kneel down, In homage, on red velvet cushion, And to thee hand over The small bit of reason, Which, out of compassion, was left me By her who last govern'd thy kingdom. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAVING OF THE CORN by SIDNEY LANIER SONNET: FOR INSPIRATION by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI INLAND by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY SONNET: 87 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE BETH GELERT; OR, THE GRAVE OF THE GREYHOUND by WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER |