 | Sonnets |  |
I.
VIRGIN of Troy, the days were well with thee
When wandering singing by the singing streams
Of Ilion, thou beheldest the golden gleams
Of the bold sun that might not facèd be
Come murmuring to thy feet caressingly;
But best that day when, steeped in noontide dreams,
The young Apollo wrapped thee in his beams,
And quenched his love in thine as in a sea!
When wandering singing by the singing streams
Of Ilion, thou beheldest the golden gleams
Of the bold sun that might not facèd be
Come murmuring to thy feet caressingly;
But best that day when, steeped in noontide dreams,
The young Apollo wrapped thee in his beams,
And quenched his love in thine as in a sea!
And later, in thy tower 'twas sweet to teach
The loveless night the joys high day had known;
To dream, to wake—and find thy love impeach
Late sleep with kisses, and thy spirit flown
To his, and at the ivory gates of speech
Breaking in words as burning as his own.
The loveless night the joys high day had known;
To dream, to wake—and find thy love impeach
Late sleep with kisses, and thy spirit flown
To his, and at the ivory gates of speech
Breaking in words as burning as his own.
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