Upon a high-raised hill in Avalon,
Four dragon sentinels with burnished scales
Keep ward and watch, and whether the sleets and hails
Of winter beat their caves, or in May magic the lawn.
Like a dull emerald smitten with the dawn,
Up brightens, guard and gleam; and still the Grail's
Enchaliced splendors shake over those sweet dales,
Where, 'neath a thick-leaved canopy unwithdrawn
Since the old days of Vivien's sorcery,
Sleeps Merlin in a nest of nightingales--
Thus one clear moment--then the vision fails,
As his, who lone on a wreak-littered lea
Has mocking glimpse of star-mist on the sails,
Of some great ship that lies out to sea.
