To Sir Thomas Mallory
Well met, Sir Thomas! guide and comrade true
In many brave adventures. Slow, God wot,
Have dragged the years since last in Camelot
By Arthur’s hall the bridle rein we drew.
Of Bedivere,—of Bors what tidings new?
What gallant tale is told of Lancelot,
The courteous knight? Old friend, hast thou forgot
How rang the walls when round the table flew
That biting lay on Cornwall’s coward King
Of blithe Sir Dinadan? With snowy crest
And stainless shield, what young knight fares upon
The charmèd road of high adventuring?
Alone, I ride a long and weary quest.
Oh, bid them wait for me in Avalon!