(TO THE LADY OF THE CASTLE) 'HE who fears the trial, Naught can hope to gain': -- Shall I make denial A la Chatelaine? Come then, MUSE, and lend me All that poets feign: Let my verse commend me A la Chatelaine! TIME, that rarely lingers, -- TIME, that churl ingrain, -- Kisses courtier fingers A la Chatelaine; Leads her by soft places Free from stone and stain; Spares his sterner traces A la Chatelaine! Ah! benign, caressing, Still, O TIME, remain; Send thy chiefest blessing A la Chatelaine! Make her sorest troubles Light as summer rain; Crosses be but bubbles A la Chatelaine! Neither mar nor mend her; Save her toil and pain; TIME, be always tender A la Chatelaine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ON AN INFANT WHICH DIED BEFORE BAPTISM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE ON THE DEATH OF MR. WILLIAM HERVEY by ABRAHAM COWLEY LYRICS AND EPICS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH INTIMATE VISION by JOSEPHINE BATES THE DROWNED BOY by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD SONS OF PROMISE by THOMAS CURTIS CLARK PRINCE YOUSUF AND THE ALCAYDE; A MOORISH BALLAD by CHRISTOPHER PEARSE CRANCH |