IN TINTAGEL

Ah lady, lady, leave the creeping mist,

And leave the iron castle by the sea!

Nay, from the sea there came a ghost that kissed

My lips, and so I cannot come to thee!

Ah lady, leave the cruel landward wind

That crusts the blighted flowers with bitter foam!

Nay, for his arms are cold and strong to bind,

And I must dwell with him and make my home!

Come, for the Spring is fair in Joyous Guard

And down deep alleys sweet birds sing again.

But I must tarry with the winter hard,

And with the bitter memory of pain,

Although the Spring be fair in Joyous Guard,

And in the gardens glad birds sing again!