Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/286



of the knights of old May sleep: their tale is told, And no man cares: The praise which fires our lips is A knight’s whose fame eclipses All of theirs.

The ruddiest light in heaven Blazed as his birth-star seven Long years ago: All glory crown that old year Which brought our stout small soldier With the snow!

Each baby born has one Star, for his friends a sun, The first of stars: And we, the more we scan it, The more grow sure your planet, Child, was Mars.