Where the bells peal far at sea
Cunning fingers fashioned me.
There on palace walls I hung
While that Consuelo sung;
But i heard, though I listened well,
Never a note, never a trill,
Never a beat of the chiming bell.
There i hung and looked, and there
In my grey face, faces fair
Shone from under shining hair.
Well i saw the poising head,
But the lips moved and nothing said;
And when lights were in the hall,
Silent moved the dancers all.
So awhile I glowed, and then
Fell on dusty days and men;
Long i slumbered packed in straw,
Long i none but dealers saw;
Till before my silent eye
One that sees came passing by.
Now with an outlandish grace,
To the sparkling fire I face
In the blue room at Skerryvore;
Where i wait until the door
Open, and the Prince of Men,
Henry James, shall come again.
Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.