The Complete Poems of S. Weir Mitchell

Silas Weir Mitchell

The Complete Poems of S. Weir Mitchell
Format
Paperback
Publisher
Kessinger Publishing
Country
United States
Published
1 August 2007
Pages
460
ISBN
9780548395240

The Complete Poems of S. Weir Mitchell

Silas Weir Mitchell

General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1914 Original Publisher: The Century co. Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where you can select from more than a million books for free. Excerpt: HOW LANCELOT CAME TO THE NUNNERY IN SEARCH OF THE QUEEN Three days on Gawain’s tomb Sir Lancelot wept, Then drew about him baron, knight, and earl, And cried,
Alack, fair lords, too late we came, For now heaven hath its own, and woe is mine: But ‘gainst the black knight Death may none avail. I will that ye no longer stay for me. In Arthur’s realm I go to seek the Queen, Nor ever more in earthly lists shall ride. So, heeding none, seven days he westward rode, And at the sainted mid-hour of the night Was 'ware of voices, and above them all One that he knew, and trembled now to hear. Rose-hedged before him stood a nunnery’s walls, With gates wide open unto foe or friend. Unquestioned to the cloister court he came, And in the moonlight, on the balcony, saw Beneath the arches nuns and ladies stand, And in their midst a cowled white face he loved, Whereat he cried aloud,
Lo, I am here ! Lo, I am here ! – I, Lancelot, am here ! Would ye I came? I could not help but come. Spake then the Queen, low-voiced as one in pain: Z32 LANCELOT IN SEARCH OF THE QUEEN
Oh, call him here, I pray you call him here. Then lit Sir Lancelot down, and climbed the stair, And doffed his helm, and stood before the Queen. But she that had great fear to see his face:
Oh, sinless sisters, ye that are so dear, Lo, this is he through whom great ills were wrought; For by our love, which we have loved too well, Is slain my lord and many noble knights. And therefore, wit ye well, Sir Lancelot, My soul’s health waneth; yet through God’s go…

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