And all of them were sleeping
(Praise God, who sendeth rest!)
The sleep that comes when strife is done
And ended every quest.
Beside the good King Arthur
(How high is your desire?)
His sword within its scabbard lay,
The sword with blade of fire.
Now had the peasant known it
(Oh, if we all could know!)
He should have drawn that wondrous blade
Before he turned to go.
If but his hand had touched it
(The sword still lieth there!)
He would have felt in every vein
A lofty purpose thrill.
If but his hand had drawn it
(The sword still lieth there!)
A kingly way he would have walked,
Wherever he might fare.
But no; he fled affrighted
(Oh, pitiful the cost!)
And then he knew; but lo! the way
Into the cave was lost.
He searched forever after
(All this was long ago!)
But nevermore that crystal cave
His eager eyes could know.
Pray God ye have the vision
(Oh, search in every land!)
To seize the sword that Arthur bore
When it lies at your hand.
JOHN CLAIR MINOT
THE DIVINE FOREST
IF there be leaves on the forest floor,
Dead leaves there are and nothing more,
If trunks of trees seem sentinels,
For what their vigil no man tells.
And if you clasp these guardian trees
Nothing there is to hurt or please;
Only the dead roof of the forest drops
Gently down and never stops
And roofs you in and roofs you under,
Mute and away from life's dim thunder;
And if there come eternal spring
It is but more disheartening,
For Autumn takes the Spring and Summer-
Autumn that is the latest comer-
With the Springtime's misty wonder
And the Summer's yield of gold,
Weighs you down and weighs you under
To where the blackened leaves are mold.
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