Classic Poem

THE PILGRIM

She was mild as is the sky
When gently smiles the sun of May;
She was lovely as the ray
That clothes a cherub round.
Ah! me, for ever from mine eye
The sacred veil that maid hath torn;
Now life is but a waste forlorn,
Whereon no path is found!

THE CAVALIER

I fought for ten long weary years
With Saracenic rage malign;
My name throughout all Palestine
Made dim the mother's eye;
I conquered squires and cavaliers,
But, Love, unconquered still thou art:
Back to the Lady of my heart
Returns my constant sigh.

THE TROUBADOUR

I sang of many a glorious feat
Enacted on the fields of fame;
The Lion-hearted Richard's name
Resounded bold and free:
But ah! the strain more sadly sweet
Flew back to those beloved eyes,
Between whose light and mine there lies
So much of sky and sea.

THE THREE

Without love no light doth shine,
To guide the Pilgrim on his way;
Without Love the wreath of bay
Twines sharply round — a thorny band;
Without Love, the flower divine
Hath none to cherish or admire;
Sweetness flies the Poet's lyre,
And skill the Poet's hand.