Earth never returned a worthier trust
For hand of Heaven to take,
Since Arthur’s sword, Excalibur,
Was cast into the lake,
And the King’s grievous wounds were dressed,
And healed, by weeping Queens, who blessed,
And bore him to a valley of rest.
Old heroes who could grandly do,
As they could greatly dare,
A vesture very glorious
Their shining spirits wear
Of noble deeds! God give us grace,
That we may see such face to face,
In our great day that comes apace!
Gerald Massey.
BROWN
LXXXVII
LAND, HO!
I know ’tis but a loom of land,
Yet is it land, and so I will rejoice,
I know I cannot hear His voice
Upon the shore, nor see Him stand;
Yet is it land, ho! land.
The land! the land! the lovely land!
‘Far off’ dost say? Far off—ah, blessed home!
Farewell! farewell! thou salt sea-foam!
Ah, keel upon the silver sand—
Land, ho! land.
You cannot see the land, my land,
You cannot see, and yet the land is there—
My land, my land, through murky air—
I did not say ’twas close at hand—
But—land, ho! land.