File:Select poems of Alfred lord Tennyson (1885) (14596758357).jpg

Identifier: selectpoemsofalf01tenn (find matches)
Title: Select poems of Alfred lord Tennyson
Year: 1885 (1880s)
Authors: Tennyson, Alfred Tennyson, Baron, 1809-1892 Rolfe, W. J. (William James), 1827-1910, ed
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Publisher: Boston, J. R. Osgood and company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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g star, In raiment white and clean. 128 SIR GALAHAD. He lifts me to the golden doors : The flashes come and go ;All heaven bursts her starry floors, And strews her lights below,And deepens on and up ! the gates Roll back, and far within 30 For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits, To make me pure of sin.The sabbaths of Eternity, One sabbath deep and wide —A light upon the shining sea — The Bridegroom with his bride! SIR GALAHAD. My good blade can-es the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure.My strength is as the strength of ten. Because my heart is pure.The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, The hard brands shiver on the steel,The splinterd spear-shafts crack and fly, The horse and rider reel;They reel, they roll in clanging lists. And when the tide of combat stands,Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies hands. How sweet are looks that ladies bend On whom their favors fall!For them I battle to the end. To save from shame and thrall: SIR GALAHAD. 129
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But all my heart is drawn above, My knees are bowd in crypt and shrine ;I never felt the kiss of love, Nor maidens hand in mine.More bounteous aspects on me beam, Me mightier transports move and thrill;So keep I fair thro faith and prayer A virgin heart in work and will.9 130 SIR GALAHAD. When down the stormy crescent goes, A Hght before me swims,Between dark stems the forest glows, I hear a noise of hymns :Then by some secret shrine I ride; I hear a voice, but none are there ; 30 The stalls are void, the doors are wide, The tapers burning fair.Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth. The silver vessels sparkle clean,The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, And solemn chants resound between. Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I find a magic bark ;I leap on board : no helmsman steers : I float till all is dark.A gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the Holy Grail:With folded feet, in stoles of white. On sleeping wings they sail.Ah, blessed vision ! blood of God ! My spirit beats

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