Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE ENCHANTED ISLE, by CARROLL RYAN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE ENCHANTED ISLE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The drifting years have brought me to
Last Line: The world of love and dreams is hers.
Alternate Author Name(s): Ryan, William Thomas Carroll
Subject(s): Love; Old Age


The drifting years have brought me to
In island in the sea of time,
With shores resembling naught I knew
In any former age or clime.

In old romance I heard of it,
Perchance I saw it in my dreams,
As clouds that thro' the moonlight flit,
Make phantoms of the passing beams.

However, 'tis a wondrous isle,
With many a quaint and cloudy height
That blushes ever at the smile
Of morning through the veil of night.

Along the valleys rivers glide
Beneath the walls of castles grand,
That are not homes for human pride,
Nor were they built by human hand.

The marble steps and pillared walls
Were planned in ages long ago,
When old magicians in these halls
Ruled genii from the world below.

But they have long since passed away
And other beings take their place,
Defying death and eke decay,
Perennial in their youth and grace.

And there are gardens filled with flow'rs,
Where palpitating odors move,
And groves that cluster into bow'rs
O'er leafy couches made for love.

Ah, human hearts! how well it were,
If ye could meet in place like this
Whene'er your deepest fountains stir,
Responsive to the clinging kiss.

And there are forests dark and high
Of trees that tell the strangest tales
That e'er were told beneath the sky,
Or listened to by heedless gales.

The caverns deep, in mountains old,
Are filled with treasures, rare and vast,
And diamonds heaped on floors of gold
By gnomes in the forgotten past.

A castle stands upon a hill,
Whose lofty rooms contain a store
Of volumes, where I learn at will
The mysteries of magic lore.

And there, upon a lofty seat,
Is placed the Queen of all this isle—
A sweet enchantress, at whose feet
I rest, and live within her smile.

The sad misfortune of my birth
Compels me oft to leave her side,
Because I am a thing of earth,
And to the sons of men allied.

For me she sings the sweetest songs,
On me their happiness confers;
Whatever else to earth belongs,
The world of love and dreams is hers.





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