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Alfred Lord Tennyson - Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere
Work rating: Medium

LIKE souls that balance joy and pain, 
With tears and smiles from heaven again 
The maiden Spring upon the plain 
Came in a sun-lit fall of rain. 
            In crystal vapour everywhere 
Blue isles of heaven laugh`d between, 
And far, in forest-deeps unseen, 
The topmost elm-tree gather`d green 
            From draughts of balmy air. 
 
Sometimes the linnet piped his song: 
Sometimes the throstle whistled strong: 
Sometimes the sparhawk, wheel`d along, 
Hush`d all the groves from fear of wrong: 
            By grassy capes with fuller sound 
In curves the yellowing river ran, 
And drooping chestnut-buds began 
To spread into the perfect fan, 
            Above the teeming ground. 
 
Then, in the boyhood of the year, 
Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere 
Rode thro` the coverts of the deer, 
With blissful treble ringing clear. 
            She seem`d a part of joyous Spring: 
A gown of grass-green silk she wore, 
Buckled with golden clasps before; 
A light-green tuft of plumes she bore 
            Closed in a golden ring. 
 
Now on some twisted ivy-net, 
Now by some tinkling rivulet, 
In mosses mixt with violet 
Her cream-white mule his pastern set: 
            And fleeter now she skimm`d the plains 
Than she whose elfin prancer springs 
By night to eery warblings, 
When all the glimmering moorland rings 
            With jingling bridle-reins. 
 
As she fled fast thro` sun and shade, 
The happy winds upon her play`d, 
Blowing the ringlet from the braid: 
She look`d so lovely, as she sway`d 
            The rein with dainty finger-tips, 
A man had given all other bliss, 
And all his worldly worth for this, 
To waste his whole heart in one kiss 
            Upon her perfect lips.
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