Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere, And slowly answer'd Arthur from the barge: "The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. I have lived my life, and that which I have done Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies 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 Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, EDWARD GRAY SWEET Emma Moreland of yonder town "And have you lost your heart?" she said; Sweet, Emma Moreland spoke to me: "Ellen Adair she loved me well, Against her father's and mother's will: To-day I sat for an hour and wept, By Ellen's grave, on the windy hill. "Shy she was, and I thought her cold; Thought her proud, and fled over the sea; Fill'd I was with folly and spite, When Ellen Adair was dying for me. "Cruel, cruel the words I said! Cruelly came they back to-day: 'You're too slight and fickle,' I said, 'To trouble the heart of Edward Gray.' "There I put my face in the grass Whisper'd, 'Listen to my despair: I repent me of all I did: Speak a little, Ellen Adair!' "Then I took a pencil, and wrote And here the heart of Edward Gray!' "Love may come, and love may go, And fly, like a bird, from tree to tree: But I will love no more, no more, Till Ellen Adair come back to me. "Bitterly wept I over the stone: Bitterly weeping I turn'd away: There lies the body of Ellen Adair! |