Joaquin Miller's Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

So the days wore by, but they brought no rest
To the minstrel knight, though the sun was as gold,
And the Isles were green, and the great Queen blest
In the splendor of arms, and as pure as bold.

He would now resolve to reveal to her all,
His sex and his race in a well-timed song;
And his love of peace, his hatred of wrong,
And his own deceit, though the sun should fall.

Then again he would linger, and knew not how
He could best proceed, and deferr'd him now
Till a favorite day, when the fair day came,
And still he delay'd, and reproached him the same.