Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/150

 And off its iron cliffs the keen-edged air Blew summer, kindling from her mute bright mouth; But winter breathed out of the murmuring south, Where, pale with wrathful watch on passing ships, The lone wife lay in wait with wan dumb lips. Yet, sailing where the shoreward ripple curled Of the most wild sweet waves in all the world, His soul took comfort even for joy to see The strong deep joy of living sun and sea, The large deep love of living sea and land, As past the lonely lion-guarded strand Where the huge warder lifts his couchant sides, Asleep, above the sleepless lapse of tides, The light sail swept, and past the unsounded caves Unsearchable, wherein the pulse of waves Throbs through perpetual darkness to and fro, And the blind night swims heavily below While heavily the strong noon broods above, Even to the very bay whence very Love, Strong daughter of the giant gods who wrought Sun, earth, and sea out of their procreant thought, Most meetly might have risen, and most divine Beheld and heard things round her sound and shine From floors of foam and gold to walls of serpentine. For splendid as the limbs of that supreme Incarnate beauty through men's visions gleam, Whereof all fairest things are even but shadow or dream, And lovely like as Love's own heavenliest face,