Sonnet ("Fair Lady! I was but a minstrel boy...)
When first thy dark glance told my soul, that joy
Might be, perchance, by heaven bestowed on me.
If thy soft heart heaven's almoner would be
Why should my spirit deem its lot unblest?
For, howsoever 'tis now robbed of rest.
And forced to war with a malignant world
Whose blood-red banner, against me unfurled.
Floats as in orient skies the purple sun
Half veiled by morning’s rising mists of dun —
Still faithful Memory will fling back her beams.
And bring to light those wild, unearthly dreams.
Which were, in mercy, to my spirit given
When thou didst teach me all I know of heaven!