My prayer an old prayer borroweth,
Of ancient love and memory —
‘ Do thou farewell, till Eld and Death,
That come to all men, come to thee.’
Gently as winter's early breath,
Scarce felt, what time the swallows flee,
To lands whereof no man knoweth
Of summer, over land and sea;
So with thy soul may summer be,
Even as the ancient singer saith,
‘ Do thou farewell, till Eld and Death,
That come to all men, come to thee.’