And thither, ere sweet night had slain sweet day, Iseult and Tristram took their wandering way, And rested, and refreshed their hearts with cheer In hunters' fashion of the woods; and here More sweet it seemed, while this might be, to dwell And take of all world's weariness farewell Than reign of all world's lordship queen and king. Nor here would time for three moon's changes bring Sorrow nor thought of sorrow; but sweet earth Fostered them like her babes of eldest birth, Reared warm in pathless woods and cherished well. And the sun sprang above the sea and fell, And the stars rose and sank upon the sea; And outlaw-like, in forest wise and free, The rising and the setting of their lights Found those twain dwelling all those days and nights. And under change of sun and star and moon Flourished and fell the chaplets woven of June, And fair through fervours of the deepening sky Panted and passed the hours that lit July, And each day blessed them out of heaven above, And each night crowned them with the crown of love. Nor till the might of August overhead Weighed on the world was yet one roseleaf shed Of all their joy's warm coronal, nor aught Touched them in passing ever with a thought That ever this might end on any day Or any night not love them where they lay; But like a babbling tale of barren breath Seemed all report and rumour held of death, And a false bruit the legend tear impearled That such a thing as change was in the world.

— Algernon Charles Swinburne

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#change