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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald (Parables)

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  How sir Galahad despaired of finding the Grail.

Through the wood the sunny day

  Glimmered sweetly glad; Through the wood his weary way

  Rode sir Galahad.

All about stood open porch,

  Long-drawn cloister dim; 'Twas a wavering wandering church

  Every side of him.

On through columns arching high,

  Foliage-vaulted, he Rode in thirst that made him sigh,

  Longing miserably.

Came the moon, and through the trees

  Glimmered faintly sad; Withered, worn, and ill at ease

  Down lay Galahad;

Closed his eyes and took no heed

  What might come or pass; Heard his hunger-busy steed

  Cropping dewy grass.

Cool and juicy was the blade,

  Good to him as wine: For his labour he was paid,

  Galahad must pine!

Late had he at Arthur's board,

  Arthur strong and wise, Pledged the cup with friendly lord,

  Looked in ladies' eyes;

Now, alas! he wandered wide,

  Resting never more, Over lake and mountain-side,

  Over sea and shore!

Swift in vision rose and fled

  All he might have had; Weary tossed his restless head,

  And his heart grew sad.

With the lowliest in the land

  He a maiden fair Might have led with virgin hand

  From the altar-stair:

Youth away with strength would glide,

  Age bring frost and woe; Through the world so dreary wide

  Mateless he must go!

Lost was life and all its good,

  Gone without avail! All his labour never would

  Find the Holy Grail!

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