Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/34

 Fresh and high-lifted was the helmless brow As the oak-tree flower that tops the topmost bough, Ere it drop off before the perfect leaf; And nothing save his name he had of grief, The name his mother, dying as he was born, Made out of sorrow in very sorrow’s scorn, And set it on him smiling in her sight, Tristram; who now, clothed with sweet youth and might, As a glad witness wore that bitter name, The second symbol of the world for fame. Famous and full of fortune was his youth Ere the beard’s bloom had left his cheek unsmooth, And in his face a lordship of strong joy And height of heart no chance could curb or cloy Lightened, and all that warmed them at his eyes Loved them as larks that kindle as they rise Toward light they turn to music love the blue strong skies. So like the morning through the morning moved Tristram, a light to look on and be loved. Song sprang between his lips and hands, and shone Singing, and strengthened and sank down thereon As a bird settles to the second flight, Then from beneath his harping hands with might Leapt, and made way and had its fill and died, And all whose hearts were fed upon it sighed Silent, and in them all the fire of tears Burned as wine drunken not with lips but ears. And gazing on his fervent hands that made The might of music all their souls obeyed