Sickness sometimes prompts the sweetest thoughts,
An intimation of mortality,
So I come to the kingdom I have sought,
Where laws are based upon morality.
I come to the land of Camelot,
Where songs of May still warm the winter bed,
Yet summer all the same will seem less hot,
For we on milk and honey have been fed.
Alas! Collapses the old Round Table,
When Guinevere elopes with Lancelot,
Yet lest the faith be thought a mere fable,
King Arthur knights Sir Tom of Camelot.
'God have mercy on us all! ' he will cry,
With tears of joy, because the good must die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem