  A THOUSAND knights have rein’d their steeds To watch this line of sand hills run, Along the never-silent strait, To Calais, glittering in the sun. To look tow’rd Ardres’ Golden Field Across the wide aerial plain, Which glows as if the Middle Age Were gorgeous upon earth again. Oh, that to share this famous scene, I saw, upon the open sand, Thy lovely presence at my side, Thy shawl, thy look, thy smile, thy hand! How exquisite thy voice would come, My darling, on this lonely air! How sweetly would the fresh sea-breeze Shake loose some band of soft brown hair! Yet now my glance but once hath roved O’er Calais and its famous plain; To England’s cliffs my gaze is turn’d, On the blue strait mine eyes I strain. Thou comest! Yes! the vessel’s cloud Hangs dark upon the rolling sea. Oh, that yon sea-bird’s wings were mine, To win one instant’s glimpse of thee! I must not spring to grasp thy hand, To woo thy smile, to seek thine eye; But I may stand far off, and gaze, And watch thee pass unconscious by, And spell thy looks, and guess thy thoughts, Mixt with the idlers on the pier.— Ah, might I always rest unseen, So I might have thee always near! To-morrow hurry through the fields Of Flanders to the storied Rhine! To-night those soft-fringed eyes shall close Beneath one roof, my queen! with mine. |
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