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!