Sonnet—To Blois
Beside the dancing Loire your castle stands,Steep roofed and gabled over pillared arch.Its history counts the deeds of many hands;Speaks of the hall resounding to the marchOf armored host or laughing cavalcade,While garden walls tell of the times they caughtThe breathless whispering of love essayed;There pride with pride seems never to have fought.For though the heart of Balafré grew coldHis corpse long hidden by the guard-room door—While brave De Guise betrayed, so we are told,Expired in anguish, chained to dungeon floor;Kind time has healed such scars of human pains,And utter loveliness alone remains.MORRIS TYLER.
Beside the dancing Loire your castle stands,Steep roofed and gabled over pillared arch.Its history counts the deeds of many hands;Speaks of the hall resounding to the marchOf armored host or laughing cavalcade,While garden walls tell of the times they caughtThe breathless whispering of love essayed;There pride with pride seems never to have fought.For though the heart of Balafré grew coldHis corpse long hidden by the guard-room door—While brave De Guise betrayed, so we are told,Expired in anguish, chained to dungeon floor;Kind time has healed such scars of human pains,And utter loveliness alone remains.MORRIS TYLER.
Beside the dancing Loire your castle stands,Steep roofed and gabled over pillared arch.Its history counts the deeds of many hands;Speaks of the hall resounding to the marchOf armored host or laughing cavalcade,While garden walls tell of the times they caughtThe breathless whispering of love essayed;There pride with pride seems never to have fought.For though the heart of Balafré grew coldHis corpse long hidden by the guard-room door—While brave De Guise betrayed, so we are told,Expired in anguish, chained to dungeon floor;Kind time has healed such scars of human pains,And utter loveliness alone remains.
Beside the dancing Loire your castle stands,
Steep roofed and gabled over pillared arch.
Its history counts the deeds of many hands;
Speaks of the hall resounding to the march
Of armored host or laughing cavalcade,
While garden walls tell of the times they caught
The breathless whispering of love essayed;
There pride with pride seems never to have fought.
For though the heart of Balafré grew cold
His corpse long hidden by the guard-room door—
While brave De Guise betrayed, so we are told,
Expired in anguish, chained to dungeon floor;
Kind time has healed such scars of human pains,
And utter loveliness alone remains.
MORRIS TYLER.
MORRIS TYLER.