Poems6

Epic & Romantic Poetry (6)

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Assurance

by Emma Lazarus

Last night I slept, and when I woke her kiss
Still floated on my lips. For we had strayed
Together in my dream, through some dim glade,
Where the shy moonbeams scarce dared light our bliss.
The air was dank with dew, between the trees,
The hidden glow-worms kindled and were spent.
Cheek pressed to cheek, the cool, the hot night-breeze
Mingled our hair, our breath, and came and went,
As sporting with our passion. Low and deep
Spake in mine ear her voice: "And didst thou dream,
This could be buried? This could be sleep?
And love be thrall to death! Nay, whatso seem,
Have faith, dear heart, this is the thing that is!"
Thereon I woke, and on my lips her kiss.

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Poems (5)

Francisca

by Lord Byron

Francisca walks in the shadow of night,
But it is not to gaze on the heavenly light - -
But if she sits in her garden bower,
'Tis not for the sake of it's blowing flower.
She listens - - but not for the nightingale - -
Though her ear expects as soft a tale.
There winds a step through the foliage thick,
And her cheek grows pale - - and her heart beats quick.
There whispers a voice thro' the rustling leaves,
A moment more - - and they shall meet - -
'Tis past - - her Lover's at her feet.

La Belle Dames
Sans Merci

by John Keats

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
     Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
     And no birds sing.

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at arms,
     So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
     And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
     With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on thy cheek a fading rose
     Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
     Full beautiful - - a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
     And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
    And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
    And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steed,
    And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
    A faery's song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
    And honey wild and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said - -
    "I love thee true."

She took me to her elfin grot,
     And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild eyes
     With kisses four.

And there she lulled me asleep
     And there I dreamed - - ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dreamed
     On the cold hill's side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
     Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried - - "La Belle Dame sans Merci
     Hath thee in thrall!"

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
     With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
     On the cold hill's side.

And this is why I sojourn here
     Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
     And no birds sing.

Poems (7)

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