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The Lute-Player

William Watson 1858 (Burley in Wharfedale) – 1935 (Rottingdean)

She was a lady great and splendid,
I was a minstrel in her halls.
A warrior like a prince attended
Stayed his steed by the castle walls.

Far had he fared to gaze upon her.
'O rest thee now, Sir Knight,' she said.
The warrior wooed, the warrior won her,
In time of snowdrops they were wed.
I made sweet music in his honour,
And longed to strike him dead.

I passed at midnight from her portal,
Throughout the world till death I rove:
Ah, let me make this lute immortal
With rapture of my hate and love!

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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William Watson

William Watson, was a surgeon in the 105th Regiment of Pennsylvania Volunteers during the American Civil War. more…

All William Watson poems | William Watson Books

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    "The Lute-Player" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 23 Jul 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/42036/the-lute-player>.

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