 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
68
GASTON DE FOIX
Half sunk in marble, soft as down, he lies,
Smiling with that inscrutable content
That comes when brows are grey, and shoulders bent,
But seldom deigns to brood in younger eyes.
Smiling with that inscrutable content
That comes when brows are grey, and shoulders bent,
But seldom deigns to brood in younger eyes.
Armed as he fell, he needs no braveries,
Nor wreath, nor curious gaud, nor jewelled ring,
Who was not loth to perish, that a king,
A careless king, might sit an hour at ease.
Nor wreath, nor curious gaud, nor jewelled ring,
Who was not loth to perish, that a king,
A careless king, might sit an hour at ease.
Happy the hero who hath served the truth,
And, full of years, is borne through weeping streets
Amid a weeping nation. Happier he
Who in one glorious hour his fate completes,
Setting the seal of immortality
On all the grace and goodliness of youth.
And, full of years, is borne through weeping streets
Amid a weeping nation. Happier he
Who in one glorious hour his fate completes,
Setting the seal of immortality
On all the grace and goodliness of youth.
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |