In the old accents I will sing, my Glory, my Delight, In the old accents, tipped with flame, before we knew the right, True way of singing with reserve. O Love, with pagan might. White in our Steeds, and white too in our armour let us ride, Immortal, white, triumphing, flashing downward side by side To where our friends, the Argonauts, are fighting with the tide. Let us draw calm to them, Beloved, the souls on heavenly voyage bound, Saluting as one presence. Great disaster were it found, If one with half-fed lambency should halt and flicker round. O friends so fondly loving, so beloved, look up to us In constellation breaking on your errand, prosperous, O Argonauts! Now, faded from their sight, We cling and joy. It was thy intercession gave me right, My Fellow, to this fellowship. My Glory my Delight! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DRAW THE SWORD, O REPUBLIC by EDGAR LEE MASTERS EFFIGY OF A NUN (SIXTEENTH CENTURY) by SARA TEASDALE PINE-TREES AND THE SKY: EVENING by RUPERT BROOKE TEARS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE MORAL FABLES: THE COCK AND THE FOX by AESOP CHRISTMAS EPITHALAMIUM by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. THE SINGERS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH; ON THE PUBLICATION OF HIS POEM, 'PETER BELL' by BERNARD BARTON |