 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
The fair Isle fill'd with the fierce invader;
They form'd on the strand, they lifted their spears,
Where never was man for years and for years,
And moved on the Queen. She lifted and laid her
Finger-tips to her lips. For O sweet
Was the song of love as the love new-born,
That the minstrel blew in the virgin morn,
Away where the trees and the soft sands meet.
They form'd on the strand, they lifted their spears,
Where never was man for years and for years,
And moved on the Queen. She lifted and laid her
Finger-tips to her lips. For O sweet
Was the song of love as the love new-born,
That the minstrel blew in the virgin morn,
Away where the trees and the soft sands meet.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |