Iseult, Iseult, by the long waterways, Watching the wintry moon, white as a flower, I have remembered how once at Tintagil You heard the tread of Time hour after hour. By casements hung with night, while all your women slept, You turned toward Brittany, awake, alone, In the high chamber, hushed, save where the candle dripped With the slow patient sound of blood on stone. The ache of empty arms was an old tale to you, And all the tragic tunes that love can play, -- Yet with no woman born would you have changed your lot Though there were greater queens who had been gay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RECOMPENSE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CLAY BISON IN A CAVE by CLARENCE MAJOR BONNYBELL: THE BUTTERFLY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. PURKAPILE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS BUCOLIC COMEDY: FLEECING TIME by EDITH SITWELL BEFORE THE FLOWERS OF FRIENDSHIP FADED FADED: 21 by GERTRUDE STEIN |