So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O death in life, the days that are no more.
THE PASSING OF ARTHUR.
[From Morte D'Arthur.]
And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:
"The old order changeth, yielding place to new,