Her name is as a word of old romance
That thrills a careless reader out of sleep.
Love and old art, and all things pure and deep
Attend on her to honour her advance—
The brave old wars where bearded heroes prance,
The courtly mien that private virtues keep—
Her name is as a word of old romance.
Peer has she none in England or in France,
So well she knows to rouse dull souls [from sleep]
So deftly can she comfort those that weep
And put kind thought and comfort in a glance.
Her name is like a [word of old romance.]
Public-domain source text
Her Name Is as a Word of Old Romance
by Robert Louis Stevenson
From Standard Ebooks · standardebooks/robert-louis-stevenson_poetry
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