Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Alfred Tennyson
‘Te somnia nostra reducunt.’
Pellam the King, who held and lost with Lot
What does little birdie say
Faint as a climate-changing bird that flies
Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm;
The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
O purblind race of miserable men,
Queen Guinevere had fled the court, and sat
Home they brought her warrior dead:
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Sad Hesper o'er the buried sun
O living will that shalt endure
O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,
Dark house, by which once more I stand
Again at Christmas did we weave
I wage not any feud with Death
O true and tried, so well and long,
Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 't is early morn:
Lucilla, wedded to Lucretius, found
How fares it with the happy dead?
When on my bed the moonlight falls,
Move eastward, happy earth, and leave
O beauty, passing beauty! Sweetest sweet!
Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap
A city clerk, but gently born and bred;
Birds' love and birds' song
Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Once in a golden hour
And Willy, my eldest-born, is gone, you say, little Anne?
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
The brave Geraint, a knight of Arthur's court,
Morn in the wake of the morning star
'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun,
Now, scarce three paces measured from the mound,
So was their sanctuary violated,
Home they brought her warrior dead:
THE groundflame of the crocus breaks the mould,
At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,
Once more the gate behind me falls;
OLD FITZ, who from your suburb grange,