And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two.
The dream Dreamed by a happy man, when the dark East, Unseen, is brightening to his bridal morn.
Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings in tears, and skim away.
Authority forgets a dying king.
Better not be at all than not be noble.
Launch your vessel, And crowd your canvas, And, ere it vanishes Over the margin, After it, follow it, FollowThe Gleam.