'Would it were anything but merely voice!'

The No King cried who after that was King,

Because he had not heard of anything

That balanced with a word is more than noise;

Yet Old Romance being kind, let him prevail

Somewhere or somehow that I have forgot,

Though he'd but cannon—Whereas we that had thought

To have lit upon as clean and sweet a tale

Have been defeated by that pledge you gave

In momentary anger long ago;

And I that have not your faith, how shall I know

That in the blinding light beyond the grave

We'll find so good a thing as that we have lost?

The hourly kindness, the day's common speech,

The habitual content of each with each

When neither soul nor body has been crossed.