TRISTITIA, the dark, the pale, Walking in night's solemnity, Wearing the midnight's mystery For coif and veil, Stole all my heart away from me. I loved her languor and her tears, And served for her through seven years Of slavery. And then I seemed to clasp my prize, And triumphed all the bridal night, Until the over hasty light Revealed her eyes. Alas! 'twas not Tristitia, 'Twas not the bride I thought to see, Only Allegra lay by me— For Rachel, Leah. Yet had she seemed to lack no grace Until I saw those purblind eyes, Until the daylight taught me sighs, Showed me her face. "She is the elder," so they said, "Let all her rites be duly done Then may Tristitia be won, Then Rachel wed." I won those eyes of strange desire, Those eyes like wells, upon whose brink A man may lean and drink, and drink, Nor ever tire. But now the spurned, the courted bride Have gone—the happiness that failed, And the sorrow that prevailed, Alike have died. Both women bare tall sons to me, And God shall light Allegra's eyes As when the summer suns arise On Galilee. My pilgrimage is almost o'er, Tristitia hath made me wise, But lay me where Allegra lies For evermore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AMERICAN NAMES by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET ODE ON THE POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS OF THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) THE IRISH RAPPAREES; A PEASANT BALLAD OF 1691 by CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY THE VALLEY'S SINGING DAY by ROBERT FROST BUDMOUTH DEARS by THOMAS HARDY SPARKLING AND BRIGHT by CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN THE INDIAN SERENADE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY |