I　have　lived　my　life；　and　that　which　I　have　done
  May　He　within　himself　make　pure！　but　thou；
  If　thou　shouldst　never　see　my　face　again；
  Pray　for　my　soul。　　More　things　are　wrought　by　prayer
  Than　this　world　dreams　of。　　Wherefore；　let　thy　voice
  Rise　like　a　fountain　for　me　night　and　day。
  For　what　are　men　better　than　sheep　or　goats
  That　nourish　a　blind　life　within　the　brain；
  If；　knowing　God；　they　lift　not　hands　of　prayer
  Both　for　themselves　and　those　who　call　them　friend？
  For　so　the　whole　round　earth　is　every　way
  Bound　by　gold　chains　about　the　feet　of　God。
  But　now　farewell。　　I　am　going　a　long　way
  With　these　thou　seestif　indeed　I　go
  （For　all　my　mind　is　clouded　with　a　doubt）
  To　the　island…valley　of　Avilion；
  Where　falls　not　hail；　or　rain；　or　any　snow；
  Nor　ever　wind　blows　loudly；　but　it　lies
  Deep…meadowed；　happy；　fair　with　orchard　lawns
  And　bowery　hollows　crowned　with　summer　sea；
  Where　I　will　heal　me　of　my　grievous　wound。'
  So　said　he；　and　the　barge　with　oar　and　sail
  Moved　from　the　brink；　like　some　full…breasted　swan
  That；　fluting　a　wild　carol　ere　her　death；
  Ruffles　her　pure　cold　plume；　and　takes　the　flood
  With　swarthy　webs。　　Long　stood　Sir　Bedivere
  Revolving　many　memories；　till　the　hull
  Looked　one　black　dot　against　the　verge　of　dawn；
  And　on　the　mere　the　wailing　died　away。
  But　when　that　moan　had　past　for　evermore；
  The　stillness　of　the　dead　world's　winter　dawn
  Amazed　him；　and　he　groaned；　'The　King　is　gone。'
  And　therewithal　came　on　him　the　weird　rhyme；
  'From　the　great　deep　to　the　great　deep　he　goes。'
  Whereat　he　slowly　turned　and　slowly　clomb
  The　last　hard　footstep　of　that　iron　crag；
  Thence　marked　the　black　hull　moving　yet；　and　cried；
  'He　passes　to　be　King　among　the　dead；
  And　after　healing　of　his　grievous　wound
  He　comes　again；　butif　he　come　no　more
  O　me；　be　yon　dark　Queens　in　yon　black　boat；
  Who　shrieked　and　wailed；　the　three　whereat　we　gazed
  On　that　high　day；　when；　clothed　with　living　light；
  They　stood　before　his　throne　in　silence；　friends
  Of　Arthur；　who　should　help　him　at　his　need？'
  Then　from　the　dawn　it　seemed　there　came；　but　faint
  As　from　beyond　the　limit　of　the　world；
  Like　the　last　echo　born　of　a　great　cry；
  Sounds；　as　if　some　fair　city　were　one　voice
  Around　a　king　returning　from　his　wars。
  Thereat　once　more　he　moved　about；　and　clomb
  Even　to　the　highest　he　could　climb；　and　saw；
  Straining　his　eyes　beneath　an　arch　of　hand；
  Or　thought　he　saw；　the　speck　that　bare　the　King；
  Down　that　long　water　opening　on　the　deep
  Somewhere　far　off；　pass　on　and　on；　and　go
  From　less　to　less　and　vanish　into　light。
  And　the　new　sun　rose　bringing　the　new　year。
  To　the　Queen
  O　loyal　to　the　royal　in　thyself；
  And　loyal　to　thy　land；　as　this　to　thee
  Bear　witness；　that　rememberable　day；
  When；　pale　as　yet；　and　fever…worn；　the　Prince
  Who　scarce　had　plucked　his　flickering　life　again
  From　halfway　down　the　shadow　of　the　grave；
  Past　with　thee　through　thy　people　and　their　love；
  And　London　rolled　one　tide　of　joy　through　all
  Her　trebled　millions；　and　loud　leagues　of　man
  And　welcome！　witness；　too；　the　silent　cry；
  The　prayer　of　many　a　race　and　creed；　and　clime
  Thunderless　lightnings　striking　under　sea
  From　sunset　and　sunrise　of　all　thy　realm；
  And　that　true　North；　whereof　we　lately　heard
  A　strain　to　shame　us　'keep　you　to　yourselves；
  So　loyal　is　too　costly！　friendsyour　love
  Is　but　a　burthen：　　loose　the　bond；　and　go。'
  Is　this　the　tone　of　empire？　here　the　faith
  That　made　us　rulers？　this；　indeed；　her　voice
  And　meaning；　whom　the　roar　of　Hougoumont
  Left　mightiest　of　all　peoples　under　heaven？
  What　shock　has　fooled　her　since；　that　she　should　speak
  So　feebly？　wealthierwealthierhour　by　hour！
  The　voice　of　Britain；　or　a　sinking　land；
  Some　third…rate　isle　half…lost　among　her　seas？
  There　rang　her　voice；　when　the　full　city　pealed
  Thee　and　thy　Prince！　　The　loyal　to　their　crown
  Are　loyal　to　their　own　far　sons；　who　love
  Our　ocean…empire　with　her　boundless　homes
  For　ever…broadening　England；　and　her　throne
  In　our　vast　Orient；　and　one　isle；　one　isle；
  That　knows　not　her　own　greatness：　　if　she　knows
  And　dreads　it　we　are　fallen。　But　thou；　my　Queen；
  Not　for　itself；　but　through　thy　living　love
  For　one　to　whom　I　made　it　o'er　his　grave
  Sacred；　accept　this　old　imperfect　tale；
  New…old；　and　shadowing　Sense　at　war　with　Soul；
  Ideal　manhood　closed　in　real　man；
  Rather　than　that　gray　king；　whose　name；　a　ghost；
  Streams　like　a　cloud；　man…shaped；　from　mountain　peak；
  And　cleaves　to　cairn　and　cromlech　still；　or　him
  Of　Geoffrey's　book；　or　him　of　Malleor's；　one
  Touched　by　the　adulterous　finger　of　a　time
  That　hovered　between　war　and　wantonness；
  And　crownings　and　dethronements：　　take　withal
  Thy　poet's　blessing；　and　his　trust　that　Heaven
  Will　blow　the　tempest　in　the　distance　back
  From　thine　and　ours：　　for　some　are　sacred；　who　mark；
  Or　wisely　or　unwisely；　signs　of　storm；
  Waverings　of　every　vane　with　every　wind；
  And　wordy　trucklings　to　the　transient　hour；
  And　fierce　or　careless　looseners　of　the　faith；
  And　Softness　breeding　scorn　of　simple　life；
  Or　Cowardice；　the　child　of　lust　for　gold；
  Or　Labour；　with　a　groan　and　not　a　voice；
  Or　Art　with　poisonous　honey　stolen　from　France；
  And　that　which　knows；　but　careful　for　itself；
  And　that　which　knows　not；　ruling　that　which　knows
  To　its　own　harm：　　the　goal　of　this　great　world
  Lies　beyond　sight：　　yetif　our　slowly…grown
  And　crowned　Republic's　crowning　common…sense；
  That　saved　her　many　times；　not　failtheir　fears
  Are　morning　shadows　huger　than　the　shapes
  That　cast　them；　not　those　gloomier　which　forego
  The　darkness　of　that　battle　in　the　West；
  Where　all　of　high　and　holy　dies　away。
  End