SONNET.
There is a castle of most royal state,
Wherein no warder watches from the walls,
Nor groom nor squire abides in court or halls:
Silent are they, grass-grown and desolate.
A thousand steeds a thousand knights await,
Sleeping, all harnessed, in the marble halls
Until the Appointed One upon them calls,
Winding the horn that hangs beside the gate.