The Perfect Hour

BE it on my blazon shown How I fought the fiends alone, Ere I rose to this content, Open, true, magnificent.

My heart from the underworld Rides the bright sea-foam upcurled; My heart suns in air between Medlar-pear and nectarine;

Terrors run to me at dawn Tamer than the velvet fawn; Not to me hath Love denied His great star of eventide.

Fate, where is thy splintered spear Met me in the tourney year? Once thou wert in overthrow, Then I laughed, and let thee go.

Wouldst thou yet make sport of me, Find me kingly, fervent, free! Though there come the foreordained, In thy city have I not reigned?