LONG years ago on Cornish land A King, his Queen, and her lover true Lived out a luckless tale, And the Breton maid surnamed Whitehand; And ever the old years yet are new, And the story does not fail. It does not fail. Abroad in the south Is news again of these that made Love grieve in the dawn of time; A poet has touched the dumb dead mouth Of every one, and shade by shade They steal upon his rhyme. O luckless love of so little date; O happy love so long to abide For men to praise and weep; O happy world where bitter fate Is sweetened thus of all its pride In song before we sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WINDING BANKS OF ERNE; OR, THE EMIGRANT'S ADIEU TO HIS BIRTHPLACE by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF EOGHAN RUADH (OWEN ROE) O'NEIL by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 7. SUPREME SURRENDER by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI FAR - FAR - AWAY (FOR MUSIC) by ALFRED TENNYSON MOUNT SINAI by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR SOCIAL JUSTICE by ERNEST BRADLEY |