Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/123

 As dies in many with their dawn that dies And leaves in pulseless hearts and flameless eyes No light to lighten and no tear to weep For youth's high joy that time has cast on sleep. Yea, this old grace and height of joy they had, To lose no jot of all that made them glad And filled their springs of spirit with such fire That all delight fed in them all desire; And no whit less than in their first keen prime The spring's breath blew through all their summer time, And in their skies would sunlike Love confuse Clear April colours with hot August hues, And in their hearts one light of sun and moon Reigned, and the morning died not of the noon: Such might of life was in them, and so high Their heart of love rose higher than fate could fly. And many a large delight of hawk and hound The great glad land that knows no bourne or bound, Save the wind's own and the outer sea-bank's, gave Their days for comfort; many a long blithe wave Buoyed their blithe bark between the bare bald rocks, Deep, steep, and still, save for the swift free flocks Unshepherded, uncompassed, unconfined, That when blown foam keeps all the loud air blind Mix with the wind's their triumph, and partake The joy of blasts that ravin, waves that break, All round and all below their mustering wings, A clanging cloud that round the cliff's edge clings