William Ernest Henley

Or ever the knightly years were gone
With the old world to the grave,
I was a read more

Or ever the knightly years were gone
With the old world to the grave,
I was a king in Babylon
And you were a Christian slave.

Men may scoff, and men may pray,
But they pay
Every pleasure with a pain.

Men may scoff, and men may pray,
But they pay
Every pleasure with a pain.

What is the voice of strange command
Calling you still, as friend calls friend,
With love that read more

What is the voice of strange command
Calling you still, as friend calls friend,
With love that cannot brook delay,
To rise and follow the ways that wend
Over the hills and far away.

Failing yet gracious,
Slow pacing, soon homing,
A patriarch that strolls
Through the tents read more

Failing yet gracious,
Slow pacing, soon homing,
A patriarch that strolls
Through the tents of his children,
The sun as he journeys
His round on the lower
Ascents of the blue,
Washes the roofs
And the hillsides with clarity.

Here is the ghost
Of a summer that lived for us,
Here is a promise
read more

Here is the ghost
Of a summer that lived for us,
Here is a promise
Of summer to be.