IN cloisters dim and haunted She met me and I said: "Art thou the queen enchanted Of whom long since I read? Whose heart a great magician Has hidden from her birth, Either in the deep ocean, The forest or the earth." She seemed a monarch's daughter, Her body like a palm, Her voice like silver water That speaks when all is calm. She answered, "It is hidden." And smiling dreamily, "But messengers unbidden Bring news of it to me. The wildest nights creep hither All dumb, with muffled feet, Yet through the halcyon weather I often feel the fleet Fresh wind about me blowing And power within my breast, As of the great seas flowing That do not ask for rest. "O then my heart is driven I know 'twixt shore and shore. The moon is large in heaven, The gathering waters roar. The sullen trees unshaken Keep charmèd shadow here, Nor know how woods awaken Afar when spring is near. Yet from the boughs wild voices Are sometimes calling me; The soul of me rejoices, The frozen blood runs free, And needs I must go roaming And sing and laugh alone, While through the magic gloaming Strange lights are tossed and blown. "'Tis when mid forest branches My heart keeps watch and sees As wind the water blanches, How spring makes red the trees. About my trancèd slumber At moments rise and sweep Dread visions without number That battle and that weep; And more than men who waken I know of Death and Birth, Because my heart is taken And buried in the Earth." I said: "The habitation Of dreams is not for thee. Tell me what incantation, What toil can set thee free? Surely thy soul desireth The sun and moon for light, Ay, and the glow that fireth The festal halls at night. The springtime in its sweetness, The summer in its strength, The world in its completeness Thou shalt possess at length." Pale, with a solemn gesture Either of prayer or pain, She wrapped her in her vesture, Nor looked on me again. I heard a hollow crying In all the palace around, Like echoes far replying To unperceived sound, A clash along the arches Long drawn on either side, As of a guard that marches— It rose and passed and died. Her saw I not, nor even Shadows of living things, Save that without the seven Great sphinxes stirred their wings; They who with sleepless vision For ever contemplate, Smiling in still derision, The world and men and fate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PATH-FLOWER by OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN THE BOUGH OF NONSENSE by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES THE WATCH OF A SWAN by SARAH MORGAN BRYAN PIATT LUCY (5) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 4. TO THE HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND, IN THE COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE THE RIVER STOUR by WILLIAM BARNES THE BOSPHORUS REVISITED by SEYMOUR GREEN WHEELER BENJAMIN THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 50. FAREWELL TO JULIET (12) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |