Her Name Is as a Word of Old Romance

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.]