Rose up exceedingly.

 To open that great flower, too cold Were sun and vernal rain; But fire has forced it to unfold, Nor will it shut again. 

Were sun and vernal rain;

Nor will it shut again.

 

 

   CARÇAMON 

 His steed was old, his armor worn, And he was old and worn and gray: The light that lit his patient eyes It shone from very far away. 

And he was old and worn and gray:

It shone from very far away.

 Through gay Provence he journeyed on; To one high quest his life was true, And so they called him Carçamon— The knight who seeketh the world through. 

To one high quest his life was true,

The knight who seeketh the world through.

 A pansy blossomed on his shield; "A token 'tis," the people say, "That still across the world's wide field He seeks la dame de ses pensées." 

"A token 'tis," the people say,

He seeks la dame de ses pensées."

 For somewhere on a painted wall, Or in the city's shifting crowd, Or looking from a casement tall, Or shaped of dream or evening cloud— 

Or in the city's shifting crowd,

Or shaped of dream or evening cloud—

 Forgotten when, forgotten where— Her face had filled his careless eye A moment ere he turned and passed, Nor knew it was his destiny. 

 Prev. P 28/43 next