Follow the deer? Follow the Christ the King. Live pure, speak true,right wrong, Follow the King-- Else, wherefore born?

There she weaves by night and day, A magic web with colors gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay, To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.

His honour rooted in dishonour stood, And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.

Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool.

The song that nerves a nation's heart is in itself a deed.

For this is England's greatest son, He that gain'd a hundred fights, And never lost an English gun.