Are favoring ladies above thee? Are there dowries and lands? Do they say Seven others are fair? But I love thee: Aultre n’auray! All the sea is a lawn in our country; All the morrow, our star of delay. I am King: let me live on thy bounty! Aulture n’auray! To the fingers so light and so rosy That have pinioned my heart,(welladay!) Be a kiss, be a ring with this posy: Aultre n’auray!
I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses, All day, the commotion of sinewy, mane-tossing horses; All night, from their cells, the importunate tramping and neighing. Cowards and laggards fall back; but alert to the saddle, Straight, grim, and abreast, vault our weather-worn, galloping...
The Gusty morns are here, When all the reeds ride low with level spear; And on such nights as lured us far of yore, Down rocky alleys yet, and thro’ the pine, The Hound-star and the pagan Hunter shine: But I and thou, ah, field-fellow of mine, Together roam no more. Soft showers go laden now...
The Ox he openeth wide the Doore And from the Snowe he calls her inne, And he hath seen her smile therefore, Our Ladye without Sinne. Now soone from Sleepe A Starre shall leap, And soone arrive both King and Hinde; Amen, Amen: But oh, the place co’d I but finde! The Ox...
High above hate I dwell: O storms! farewell. Though at my sill your daggered thunders play, Lawless and loud to-morrow as to-day, To me they sound more small Than a young fay’s footfall: Soft and far-sunken, forty fathoms low In Long Ago, And winnowed into silence on that wind Which takes wars...
I would unto my fair restore A simple thing: The flushing cheek she had before! Out-velveting No more, no more, By Severn shore, The carmine grape, the moth’s auroral wing. Ah, say how winds in flooding grass Unmoor the rose; Or guileful ways the salmon pass To sea, disclose; For so, alas, With...
