WE crazed for you, aspired and fell for you; Over us trod Desire, with feet of fire. Ah! the sad stories we would tell for you, Full of dark nights and sighing, While—you were dying, Chrysola! Rondels and all rich rimes we rang for you; How from the plangent lyre pled our Desire! But the musicians vainly sang for you,— Though dear the music, crying That,—you were dying, Chrysola! High on the golden throne Love wrought for you, With eyes enthralled of rest, tired of our best, You sat unheeding while we fought for you, Glaive unto glaive replying; For,—you were dying, Chrysola! Frenzied from out the jousts we came to you, "Can we love more, Dream-fast? Crown, then, at last." But love and hate were one dim flame to you: Strange things you smiled us,—dying. Oh! You were dying, Chrysola! Great spoils of frankincense we burned for you Round your death-chamber proud,—then cursed aloud Christian or Pagan god that yearned for you Till you were undenying.— O Dream undying, Chrysola! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 28. WATERLOO by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) A LAMENT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES FOR A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH by THALIA BELL THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: EL HARITH by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT PROPHET AND PRIEST by SAMUEL VALENTINE COLE ON CHRISTMAS DAY: HYMN by CHARLES COTTON |