Poised in the warm and pulseless air,
On the carven chessman's ivory hair.
Dreamily wandered the game along,
Quietly moving at even-song,
While the striving kings stood firm and strong,
Until that one which of late was crowned
Flinched from a knight's determined bound,
And in sullen majesty left the ground,
Reeling back; and it came to pass
That, waiting to mutter no funeral mass,