While heralds are unfolding, hot with haste, The Emperor's banners crimsoning the day, The nobles throng in sumptuous array, And billow round the lists the sun lays waste. Lone at the river's brim the wan and chaste Elsa weeps tears that for wonder pray, But golden trumpets to the welkin bray, And noisy knights surge round her brazen-faced. Of a sudden silence, and terror in all eyes, For, like a dream come forth from seas and skies, Lo, to the shingles wafted by a gale, With swan now swimming after soaring flight, Looms, underneath his helmet's broken light, The earnest hero of the Holy Grail. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MAN'S VOCATION IS NOBODY'S BUSINESS by JAMES GALVIN SMOTHERED FIRES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BOOK OF STONES AND LILIES by AMY LOWELL A MENDOCINO MEMORY by EDWIN MARKHAM THE SONG OF THE SHEPHERDS by EDWIN MARKHAM TO A DEAD MAN by CARL SANDBURG CLASS SONG (WHICH WILL BE SUNG ON THE 22ND OF FEBRUARY) by GEORGE SANTAYANA |