Classic Poem

My day and night are in my lady's hand;
— I have no other sunrise than her sight;
For me her favor glorifies the land;
— Her anger darkens all the cheerful light.
— Her face is fairer than the hawthorn white,
When all a-flower in May the hedgerows stand;
— While she is kind, I know of no affright;
My day and night are in my lady's hand.

All heaven in her glorious eyes is spanned;
— Her smile is softer than the summer's night,
Gladder than daybreak on the Faery strand;
— I have no other sunrise than her sight.
— Her silver speech is like the singing flight
Of runnels rippling o'er the jewelled sand;
— Her kiss a dream of delicate delight;
For me her favor glorifies the land.

What if the Winter chase the Summer bland!
— The gold sun in her hair burns ever bright.
If she be sad, straightway all joy is banned;
— Her anger darkens all the cheerful light.
— Come weal or woe, I am my lady's knight
And in her service every ill withstand;
— Love is my Lord in all the world's despite
And holdeth in the hollow of his hand
My day and night.