Tower of Ivory/A Song for the Harp
A SONG FOR THE HARP
Iseult, Iseult of Ireland,
The years are born again,
Again Tintagel's towers stand,
And blows the corn again,
The russet corn again.
Again, again the shoreward waves
Make wondrous undertone,
That whispers down the forest naves
When melody is flown,
When twilight birds are flown.
Iseult, Iseult, remember thou
How soft the music swept—
Nay till the lily moon arow
I'll dream that time has slept,
All flower-like has slept.
So softly was the harping wrought
As in the web of sound
The wings of melody were caught,
And fluttering music bound,
And moth-winged music bound.
Iseult, Iseult, when night is drawn
I'll cross the Irish sea,
And in the moon's white fragrant dawn
Steal down the dusk to thee,
Across the years to thee.
Iseult, my queen, all loves that were
Born on a kiss and killed,
Resurgent with the surging year,
Are in the heart fulfilled,
The secret heart fulfilled.
Forget? Nay thou can'st not forget
Nor peaceful close thine eyes.
Upon thy rose the thorn regret
Shall scar with memories,
Scar peace with memories.