Of all sweet forms within the enchanted air Of ancient legend, and of all sweet eyes, Thy form and glances ever the sweetest rise. To me thou art e'en than Guinevere more fair, And more bewitching thy deep blue-black hair Than gold wherein the heart of Lancelot lies: Thy gaze, full of the light of Irish skies, Hath never failed one poet-heart to snare.— From Tristram's knightly harp until to-day All singers own thee. When the great seas broke Beside Tintagel, thy strong spirit spoke And thy shape mingled with the sea-mists grey That floated round me. Centuries pass away: Thou art fair as when beside thee Tristram woke. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE THAW by HAYDEN CARRUTH FAITH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CORIDON'S SONG (IN ISAAK WALTON'S 'COMPLEAT ANGLER') by JOHN CHALKHILL SONNET (ON RECEIVING A LETTER INFORMING ME OF THE BIRTH OF A SON) by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE OF THE LAST VERSES IN THE BOOK by EDMUND WALLER ENGLAND AND HER COLONIES [OR, DOMINIONS] by WILLIAM WATSON SONNET TO LIBERTY by OSCAR WILDE BRUCE: HOW THE BRUCE CROSSED LOCH LOMOND by JOHN BARBOUR T.T. IN COMMENDATION OF THE AUTHOR HIS WORKE by RICHARD BARNFIELD |