| The dews drop slowly and dreams gather: unknown spears |
| Suddenly hurtle before my dream-awakened eyes, |
| And then the clash of fallen horsemen and the cries |
| Of unknown perishing armies beat about my ears. |
| We who still labour by the cromlech on the shore, |
| The grey cairn on the hill, when day sinks drowned in dew, |
| Being weary of the world’s empires, bow down to you, |
| Master of the still stars and of the flaming door. |