_Far_ away from sunny rills,
Far away from golden broom,
Far away from any town
Whither merchants travel down--
In a hollow of the hills
In impenetrable gloom
Sit the old forgotten kings
Unto whom no poet sings,
Unto whom none makes bequest,
Unto whom no kingdoms rest,----
Only wayward shreds of dreams,
And the sound of ancient streams,
And the shock of ancient strife
On the further shore of life.
----
When our days are done, shall we
Enter their pale company?
"O there be Kings whose Treasuries"
_O there_ be kings whose treasuries
Are rich with pearls and gold
And silks and bales of cramasy
And spices manifold:
Gardens they have with marble stairs
And streams than life more fair,
With roses set and lavender
That do enchant the air.
O there be many ships that sail
The sea-ways wide and blue,
And there be master-mariners
To sail them straight and true:
And there be many women fair
Who watch out anxiously,
And are enamoured of the day
Their dear ones come from sea:
But riches I can find enow
All in a barren land,
Where sombre lakes shine wondrously
With rocks on either hand:
And I can find enow of love
Up there, alone, alone,
With none beside me save the wind,
Nor speech except his moan.
For there far up among the hills
The great storms come and go
In a most proud processional
Of cloud and rain and snow:
There light and darkness only are
A changing benison
Of the old gods who wrought the world
And shaped the moon and sun.