In the great hall of Castle Innocence,
Hedged round with thorns of maiden doubts and fears,--
Within, without, a silence grave, intense,--
Her soul lies sleeping through the rose-leaf years.
Hedged round with thorns of maiden doubts and fears;
And all save one the thither path shall miss.
Her soul lies sleeping through the rose-leaf years,
Waiting the Prince and his awakening kiss.
And all save one the thither path shall miss;
For one alone may thread the thorn defence.
Waiting the Prince and his awakening kiss,
A hush broods over Castle Innocence.
For one alone may thread the thorn defence,
Care free, heart free, and singing on his way.
A hush broods over Castle Innocence
One comes to wake;--but when--ah, who can say!
Care free, heart free, and singing on his way,
One comes all thorns of Fear and Doubt to dare.
One comes to wake! But when? Ah, who can say
The hour his light feet press the castle stair?
One comes all thorns of Fear and Doubt to dare!
Thorns with his coming into roses bloom.
The hour his light feet press the castle stair
The warders of the castle hall give room.
Thorns with his coming into roses bloom;
For him the flowers of Trust and Faith unfold.
The warders of the castle hall give room
Before the young Prince of the Heart of Gold.
For him the flowers of Trust and Faith unfold;
Till then the thorns of maiden doubts and fears.
Before the young Prince of the Heart of Gold
Her rose-soul slumbers through the tranquil years.
Till then the thorns of maiden doubts and fears.
Within, without, a silence grave, intense.
Her rose-soul slumbers through the tranquil years
In the great hall of Castle Innocence.
"FAREWELL!"
(_Evoked by Calverley's "Forever."_)
"Farewell!" Another gloomy word
As ever into language crept.
'Tis often written, never heard
Except
In playhouse. Ere the hero flits
(In handcuffs) from our pitying view,
"Farewell!" he murmurs, then exits
R. U.
"Farewell!" is much too sighful for
An age that has not time to sigh.
We say, "I'll see you later," or
"Good-bye!"
"Fare well" meant long ago, before
It crept tear-spattered into song,
"Safe voyage!" "Pleasant journey!" or
"So long!"
But gone its cheery, old-time ring:
The poets made it rime with knell.
Joined, it became a dismal thing--
"Farewell!"
"Farewell!" Into the lover's soul
You see fate plunge the cruel iron.
All poets use it. It's the whole
Of Byron.
"I only feel--farewell!" said he;
And always tearful was the telling.
Lord Byron was eternally
Farewelling.
"Farewell!" A dismal word, 'tis true.
(And why not tell the truth about it?)
But what on earth would poets do
Without it!