That narrow word which, like a little spring
Of water, swells to a dividing flood:
Farewell. O royal Guenevere, farewell.
Dear isle, sweet Britain, where I won renown—
All other lands are darkness to your light
Which I must leave behind me. Keep my name
As one that loved, as one that.... There’s no more!
Launcelot passes from this fellowship,
This the most noble fellowship of the world,
For ever, and the little noise we made