Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to towered Camelot.

What rights are those that dare not resist for them?

Better not to be at all Than not to be noble.

Ah, Christ, that it were possible, For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.

For always roaming with a hungry heart.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone.

O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.