Old Tales I Have Turned Poem by Christopher Laverty

Old tales of knights and honour I have turned:
sat at baronial tables, seen a hall -
through plots I've overheard - now rise, now fall -
spied cloistered sighs, felt pangs of lovers spurned;
breathed thin-high epic airs - watched cities burned,
while noble foes charged to the trumpet's call -
yet there's a volume I most prize of all,
within whose breathing leaves much more I've learned.
Though when it speaks I wonder what is meant -
a guileless language in its eyes I see -
wherein I trace the passions' firmament;
she is my class - her face is nature's key
to learning other volumes but augment -
she is this book - the heart's academy.