O THOU, whose name is as a sigh exhaled, In whom trouvere and minstrel did delight, Sad King of Thule, many a day and night With pangs thou hast my peace assailed. I muse upon thy love inviolate, Thy cup that yielded bitter tears for wine, Upon thy keep o'er waters leonine, Where thou thy life did'st dedicate. To one whom thou wert fain to love till Death, Soul-blent with thee in everlasting tryst, Thy pale, mysterious queen, now swathed in mist, Whom Love alone remembereth. Time hath effaced her lineaments, yet this Gleans more than divination: Good and wise And innocent was she beyond surmise, Who won thine immemorial kiss. Mayhap her martyrdom thy bosom bled, But when she passed to shades of underground No anodyne on earth for thee was found, For ever sad, uncomforted. King of the lonely isle, thou art the proem Of every coronach and mournful measure; More precious is thy soul than any treasure, Thy name more beautiful than any poem. I pass the great of many a princely line, Sealed in their tombs of gold and porphyry; But if I envy aught of majesty, O King of Thule, it is thine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHER AND SON by KAREN SWENSON ON THE ROAD by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR BEDTIME by FRANCIS ROBERT ST. CLAIR ERSKINE LINES; SUGGESTED BY GRAVES TWO ENGLISH SOLDIERS ON CONCORD by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL AT THE CARNIVAL by ANNE SPENCER THE DAY-DREAM: MORAL by ALFRED TENNYSON CITY ROOFS by CHARLES HANSON TOWNE THAT GENERAL UTILITY RAG, BY OUR OWN IRVING BERLIN by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS A SONG FOR THE RAGGED SCHOOLS OF LONDON; WRITTEN IN ROME by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |