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Help[Opinions] Re: Christabel
in reply to a message by Martha
The lovely lady Christabel, whom her father loves so well,
what makes she in the wood so late, a furlong from the castle gate?
She had dreams all yesternight of her own betrothed knight
And in the midnight wood will pray for the weal of her lover that's far away.
She stole along, she nothing spoke
The sighs she heaved were soft and low
And naught was green beneath the oak
But moss and rarest mistletoe,
She kneels beneath the huge oak tree
And in silence prayeth she...
I had that whole poem memorized for a brief while. It's the only Chris-name I don't hate. The delicacy and gentle resonance of the -bel balances out the crumbly bag of chips quality of Chris.
what makes she in the wood so late, a furlong from the castle gate?
She had dreams all yesternight of her own betrothed knight
And in the midnight wood will pray for the weal of her lover that's far away.
She stole along, she nothing spoke
The sighs she heaved were soft and low
And naught was green beneath the oak
But moss and rarest mistletoe,
She kneels beneath the huge oak tree
And in silence prayeth she...
I had that whole poem memorized for a brief while. It's the only Chris-name I don't hate. The delicacy and gentle resonance of the -bel balances out the crumbly bag of chips quality of Chris.
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