The Knight Of Normandy.

Clear shone the moon, my mansion walls
Towered white above the wood,
Near, down the dark oak avenue
An humble cottage stood.

My gardener's cottage, small and brown,
Yet precious unto me;
For there she dwelt, who sat by me
That night beside the sea.

So sweet, the white rose on her neck
Was not more fair than she,
As silently her soft brown eyes
Looked outward o'er the sea.

So still, the muslin o'er her heart
Seemed with no breath to stir,
As silently she sat and heard
The tale I told to her.

"It was a knight of Normandy,
He vowed on his good sword
He would not wed his father's choice,
The Lady Hildegarde.

"Near dwelt the beauteous Edith,
A lowly maiden she - "
Ah! still unmoved, her dark sweet eyes
Looked far away from me.

"Dearer to him one blossom small
That had but touched her hand,
Than all the high-born beauties -
The ladies of the land.

"Dearer to him," quick came my breath
As I looked down on her,
But the white roses in her hand
No lightest leaf did stir.

Ah! wistfully I read her face,
Full gently did I speak,
No light dawned in her tender eye,
No flush stole o'er her cheek.

"He wore her colors on the field,
He went where brave hearts were;
Ah, gallantly and nobly
He fought for love of her.

"He loved her with his whole true heart,"
Now like a sudden flame
Up to her cheek so pure and white,
A flood of crimson came.

Her hands unclasped, down to her feet
My flowers unnoticed shook;
I leaned and followed with my gaze
Her glad and eager look.

I saw a boat sweep round the rock,
Rowed with a steady grace;
I saw the fisher's manly form,
His brown and handsome face.

"For love of her, to victory
He his brave squadron led,
Then broke his true heart, and her scarf
Pillowed his dying head.

"So died this knight of Normandy,
Died with his sword unstained;"
I know not that she heard my words,
So near the boat had gained.

I said, Heaven bless her, in my heart,
She had no thought for me;
I turned away and left them there
Beside the beating sea.

Behind me lay the sweet moonlight,
My shadow went before,
And passed a dark and gloomy shape
Before me through the door.

Oh strange and sad this life of ours,
This life beneath the sun;
O sad and strange and full of pain
God help us, every one.

God help us, that we may endure
Like him of Normandy;
And die with sword unstained, that has
Led us to victory.

Marietta Holley

Marietta Holley was an American humorist who used satire to comment on social issues, particularly those related to women's rights. Her works, often compared to those of Mark Twain, highlighted the absurdities of society's treatment of women. Her most famous character, 'Samantha', allowed her to address serious topics with wit and humor, making her an influential figure in the women's suffrage movement.

Marietta Holley

The Wild Rose.

Marietta Holley, Simple Poetry

Too Low.

Marietta Holley, Simple Poetry

Summer.

Marietta Holley, Simple Poetry

The Messenger.

Marietta Holley, Simple Poetry

English

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The Sewing-Girl.

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The Flower Of Wensleydale

She leaned o'er her latticed casement,
    The Flower of Wensleydale;
'Twas St Agnes Eve at midnight,
    Through the mist the stars burnt pale.

In her hand she held twelve sage-leaves,
    Plucked in her garden at noon;
And over them she had whispered thrice
    The spell of a mystic rune.

For many had come a-wooing
    The maid with the sloe-blue eyes;
Fain would she learn of St Agnes
    To whom should fall the prize.

They said she must drop a sage-leaf
    At each stroke of the midnight hour;
Then should the knight of her father's choice
Obey the summons of her voice,
    And appear 'neath her oriel'd bowwer.

To the holy virgin-martyr
    She lifted her hands in prayer;
Then she watched the rooks that perched asleep

Frederic William Moorman