“The old
order changeth, yielding place to new,
And
God fulfils himself in many ways,
Lest
one good custom should corrupt the world.
Comfort
thyself; what comfort is in me?
I
have lived my life, and that which I have done
May
He within himself make pure! but thou,
If
thou shouldst never see my face again,
Pray
for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer
Than
this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice
Rise
like a fountain for me night and day.
For
what are men better than sheep or goats
That
nourish a blind life within the brain,
If,
knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer
Both
for themselves and those who call them friend?
For
so the whole round earth is every way
Bound
by gold chains about the feet of God.
But
now farewell. I am going a long way
With
these thou seest-if indeed I go--
For
all my mind is clouded with a doubt--
To
the island-valley of Avilion;
Where
falls not hail, or rain or any snow,
Nor
ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadow’d,
happy, fair with orchard lawns
And bowery
hollows crown’d with summer sea,
Where
I will heal me of my grievous wound.”
Sir Alfred
Tennyson
Click here
to hear me recite a part
Idylls
of the King
of Arthur's speech