| Alas
|
| My love
|
| If I could make you live
|
| And from the page
|
| Step forth and sit beside me
|
| Or better still
|
| Bestride the steed I gave you
|
| Wrapped close within the cloak
|
| I lent to hide thee
|
| Perhaps I’d venture forth to ask thy name
|
| Since while thou liest underneath my pen
|
| That honour given
|
| Which the poorest claim
|
| Unjustly was withheld
|
| But if again
|
| I held thee captive
|
| As I did ere now
|
| Stalling to pass my fingers through the last
|
| Of midnight tendrils
|
| Or peruse thy brow
|
| In fear of sending off what heaven cast
|
| Too early
|
| For my insufficient mind
|
| To grasp the fullest detail
|
| And retain
|
| The presence
|
| That your image left behind
|
| That thou in all thy glory should remain
|
| I fear my oversight
|
| I would not mend
|
| For now upon reflection
|
| I confess
|
| That secretly
|
| I never did intend
|
| With title long
|
| Or surname rich
|
| To bless
|
| But rather
|
| Let in my imagination
|
| Run wild the thoughts of
|
| Who perhaps you were
|
| Before your soul
|
| Demanded your creation
|
| And deigned my mind
|
| And willing heart to stir
|
| For such a noble
|
| And impassioned face
|
| Could well be but
|
| Newborn unto this sphere
|
| But sure among a distant
|
| Beauteous race
|
| Thou hast known more than all who dwelleth here
|
| And could tell much of places thou hast seen
|
| And battles fought
|
| For honours won and lost
|
| And how each service
|
| Done a faerie Queen
|
| Becomes
|
| A brighter jewel than it cost
|
| The ladies of your world
|
| You may impart
|
| Desire to be neither
|
| Over-graced
|
| Nor underrepresented in the art
|
| Of living
|
| Where their lips were meant to taste
|
| A sort of feline stealth
|
| They wear about them
|
| And while a flame of innocence they hold
|
| In forests dark
|
| You fear to be without them
|
| For knights of maler kinds are ne’er so bold
|
| Yes, in thy orb a maid may be a knight
|
| (Thou knew’st a friend would make upon this news)
|
| Without a whisper loud
|
| Or censure slight
|
| For lords are not afeared
|
| Their stock to lose
|
| Where no stock may be taken
|
| Or be kept
|
| No property be granted
|
| Nor no bride
|
| No maiden
|
| May be stolen while she slept
|
| Nor robbed of her freedom
|
| To decide
|
| What suits her best
|
| No county’s law is needed
|
| To cut the weed of violence from the stem
|
| No danger for the law to go unheeded
|
| For acts as these
|
| Do not occur to them
|
| The gentlemen you raise
|
| Are rarer still
|
| For in their eyes, as in the depths of thine
|
| Such soft
|
| And thrilling mysteries fulfill
|
| The darkest corners of their heart’s design
|
| Their arrows
|
| Much like those I gave to thee
|
| Could not but graze the flank of yonder cow
|
| Without making him laugh
|
| 'Tis much to see
|
| Them tickling their prey
|
| I know not
|
| How
|
| They ever do
|
| Encapture what they eat
|
| Save that perhaps
|
| Their bright unfettered brains
|
| Have learned that
|
| What grows underneath their feet
|
| And in the trees above
|
| Better sustains
|
| A life
|
| Intent on living well tomorrow
|
| But how
|
| I ask thee
|
| Most endearing fiend
|
| Do lords and ladies love
|
| Where is no
|
| Sorrow
|
| No strife to overcome
|
| No soul uncleaned
|
| Of crushing ardor
|
| Long worn out its stay
|
| Betrothal to a mortal less divine
|
| Than that who stole thy blushing breath away
|
| No hot
|
| Forbidden kisses for to pine
|
| No heart affixed to age
|
| Where heart is young
|
| No ill intentioned suitors to evade?
|
| «Still madam!
|
| Would’st thou kindly hold thy tongue»
|
| Thou sayest
|
| «Your mistake has rash been made
|
| In living long
|
| In combat with your kind
|
| Thou see’st no other obstacle but these
|
| Thy hands are careworn
|
| Yet to find
|
| The hands that first should hold them
|
| Yet to please the hierarchy
|
| Which you serve unwitting
|
| Thou dost believe that love in fighting grows
|
| That happiness
|
| In love
|
| Is not befitting
|
| But in thy sadness
|
| Thou mak’st light of woes
|
| For even were there ne’er a cloudy day
|
| No tempest
|
| To divide what love had bound
|
| The galley
|
| Which the moon holds in her sway
|
| Could not but stir
|
| The peace it finally found
|
| The wound is deeper than the sea about thee
|
| The stars upon my doublet
|
| You have drawn
|
| May light my homeward path
|
| But how
|
| Without me
|
| Wilt thou escape the fate
|
| Thou tremblest on?»
|
| And in this way
|
| And more my paper spoke
|
| O, fierce, savage
|
| Gentle beauty bright
|
| Thou who I’ve given breath
|
| My soul has broke
|
| You had authority
|
| But not the right
|
| Could I but see the lips |
| That dare not breathe
|
| They are so beautiful
|
| And pressing sweet
|
| Could I but touch the wings that underneath
|
| Are made so soft
|
| Thy heart forgets to beat
|
| Perhaps I should have more
|
| For which to strive
|
| You came to my domain
|
| And brought despair
|
| For though I be the chastest heart alive
|
| The realm you speak of
|
| Will not take me there
|
| Have you no pity?
|
| Can’st thou not perceive
|
| That I, a blinded beast
|
| Had but the eyes
|
| To see where I would love?
|
| Dost thou believe
|
| That ere you came
|
| I was but vain disguise?
|
| I know the murmur of music reveals
|
| The things no human heart could comprehend
|
| I render’st thou for all that torment feels
|
| And longed to be thy lordship’s
|
| Faithful friend
|
| Yea, quiet as a mushroom
|
| Did I wait
|
| I willed to thee my form
|
| To overtake
|
| I shivered at each passing horse’s gait
|
| And so I slept
|
| To suddenly awake
|
| Alas
|
| My love
|
| Wilt thou kiss me goodbye
|
| The lingering night
|
| Will aid thee on thy travels
|
| I’ll craft but one thing more
|
| A crow to fly
|
| Before t
|
| T tell me how thy tale unravels
|
| I say, thou art complete and free to go
|
| What holds thee here save one who lives no longer
|
| For I have given thee the life you know
|
| The weaker I become
|
| Thou art the stronger
|
| And in your antique words your clear intent
|
| Was that once thou art gone
|
| I should dismay
|
| Quothe thee
|
| «Your thought mistook me
|
| For I meant
|
| To leave thee not
|
| But offerest to stay
|
| For true
|
| I never did in my own realm
|
| Partake of that pure love of which I told thee
|
| But be my guide
|
| And with me at the helm
|
| And I shall in the cloak you wrought
|
| Enfold thee
|
| And journey to the ends
|
| Of all the earth
|
| For thou hast proved more generous and wise
|
| Than all we faeries
|
| Moons and stars are worth
|
| For live we not
|
| But living in your eyes»
|
| Dear nameless knight
|
| If thou would’st be mine own
|
| And leave thy dragons for a while
|
| Thou may’st
|
| Find in these arms within which
|
| Thou hast grown
|
| A better reason than that which thou say’st
|
| But with your hand you pointeth
|
| Swear I so
|
| And 'tis not plain to me
|
| Though I did draw it
|
| Which way thou dost intend for us to go
|
| Sure in the mind it is
|
| Of she who saw it
|
| Yet still perhaps
|
| I made thee to discover
|
| What one would do
|
| If one were asked to choose
|
| 'Tween back and forwards
|
| Be thee friend
|
| Or lover
|
| Perhaps
|
| You were to be
|
| My favorite muse
|
| Thou feel’st thy armor
|
| Fight
|
| But when you must
|
| Thou see’st the blade of truth
|
| Below thy knee
|
| Use arrows against all
|
| Whom you mistrust
|
| But when thou ride’st my way
|
| Aim one at me
|
| Your world is yours
|
| As ere it was before
|
| Your time beneath my busy hand
|
| Well spent
|
| I’ve made a thing I love
|
| I ask
|
| No more
|
| And never shall redeem the heart I lent
|
| Me in my world
|
| And thyself in thine
|
| Two petals
|
| On the same and silent flower
|
| And evermore
|
| I’ll welcome thee in mine
|
| Your dear creation
|
| Was my finest hour |