Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore, And the individual withers, and the world is more and more.

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles whom we knew.

Be near me when my light is low... And all the wheels of being slow.

The wind sounds like a silver wire, And from beyond the noon a fire Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher The skies stoop down in their desire; And, isled in sudden seas of light, My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight, Bursts into blossom in his sight.

And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two.

An English homegrey twilight poured On dewy pasture, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.

She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.