Of some ship that fights the gale
On this wild December night."
We see Iseult standing in the moonlight, the spray of the sea-voyage on her cloak and hair. We hear her singing, in sweet voice and low, the promised
". . . tales of true, long-parted lovers,
Joined at evening of their days again."
We catch the last low murmur of the dying Knight:—
"Now to sail the seas of Death I leave thee—
One last kiss upon the living shore."
Printed at the Office of the Publisher, St. Stephen Street, Bristol.