Cicely Fox Smith

(1 February 1882 – 8 April 1954 / Lymm, Cheshire)

The Death Of Galahad - Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

It was before the hour of dawn,
Ere the birds 'gan to sing,
There came to Galahad's chamber
The herald of the King.

All at the midnight hour he came
And stood at the bedside:
O and his eyes were calm and still
Like pools at eventide.

'Rise up, rise up, Sir Galahad,
Rise up and walk with me:
Bide not at all for any man,
Thy King hath called thee.'

'I am not clad in fine raiment,
In purple and in pall,
And I am shamed that thus I go
Unto a great King's hall.'

'I have no cloak to my shoulders,
No shoon to my bare feet, &mdash
Surely in sorry plight am I
For a great King to meet.'

'Thou shalt not come in fine raiment,
In purple and in pall,
Barefoot shalt go through the cold night,
Nor weary be at all.'

'At Whinny Muir thou shalt not shrink
Nor any scath shalt find;
Nor shiver 'neath the starry skies
At the cold shuddering wind.'

'Take thou no heed for feet unshod
Nor want of mantle fine,
For fair enow in thy King's sight
Is that white soul of thine.'


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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 30, 2010



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