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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538864" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Chapel in Lyonesse</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">SIR OZANA.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All day long and every day,<br>From Christmas-Eve to Whit-Sunday,<br>Within that Chapel-aisle I lay,<br>And no man came a-near.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Naked to the waist was I,<br>And deep within my breast did lie,<br>Though no man any blood could spy,<br>The truncheon of a spear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No meat did ever pass my lips<br>Those days. Alas! the sunlight slips<br>From off the gilded parclose, dips,<br>And night comes on apace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My arms lay back behind my head;<br>Over my raised-up knees was spread<br>A samite cloth of white and red;<br>A rose lay on my face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Many a time I tried to shout;<br>But as in dream of battle-rout,<br>My frozen speech would not well out;<br>I could not even weep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With inward sigh I see the sun<br>Fade off the pillars one by one,<br>My heart faints when the day is done,<br>Because I cannot sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sometimes strange thoughts pass through my head;<br>Not like a tomb is this my bed,<br>Yet oft I think that I am dead;<br>That round my tomb is writ,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Ozana of the hardy heart,<br>Knight of the Table Round,<br>Pray for his soul, lords, of your part;<br>A true knight he was found.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! me, I cannot fathom it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">[He sleeps.]</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>SIR GALAHAD.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All day long and every day,<br>Till his madness pass'd away,<br>I watch'd Ozana as he lay<br>Within the gilded screen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All my singing moved him not;<br>As I sung my heart grew hot,<br>With the thought of Launcelot<br>Far away, I ween.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So I went a little space<br>From out the chapel, bathed my face<br>In the stream that runs apace<br>By the churchyard wall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There I pluck'd a faint wild rose,<br>Hard by where the linden grows,<br>Sighing over silver rows<br>Of the lilies tall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I laid the flower across his mouth;<br>The sparkling drops seem'd good for drouth;<br>He smiled, turn'd round towards the south,<br>Held up a golden tress.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The light smote on it from the west;<br>He drew the covering from his breast,<br>Against his heart that hair he prest;<br>Death him soon will bless.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>SIR BORS.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I enter'd by the western door;<br>I saw a knight's helm lying there:<br>I raised my eyes from off the floor,<br>And caught the gleaming of his hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I stept full softly up to him;<br>I laid my chin upon his head;<br>I felt him smile; my eyes did swim,<br>I was so glad he was not dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I heard Ozana murmur low,<br>&quot;There comes no sleep nor any love.&quot;<br>But Galahad stoop'd and kiss'd his brow:<br>He shiver'd; I saw his pale lips move.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>SIR OZANA.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There comes no sleep nor any love;<br>Ah me! I shiver with delight.<br>I am so weak I cannot move;<br>God move me to thee, dear, to-night!<br>Christ help! I have but little wit:<br>My life went wrong; I see it writ,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Ozana of the hardy heart,<br>Knight of the Table Round,<br>Pray for his soul, lords, on your part;<br>A good knight he was found.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now I begin to fathom it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">[He dies.]</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>SIR BORS.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Galahad sits dreamily;<br>What strange things may his eyes see,<br>Great blue eyes fix'd full on me?<br>On his soul, Lord, have mercy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>SIR GALAHAD.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ozana, shall I pray for thee?<br>Her cheek is laid to thine;<br>No long time hence, also I see<br>Thy wasted fingers twine</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within the tresses of her hair<br>That shineth gloriously,<br>Thinly outspread in the clear air<br>Against the jasper sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Morris">William Morris</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538864" data-title="The Chapel in Lyonesse de William Morris" data-description="SIR OZANA.

All day long and every day,
From Christmas-Eve to Whit-Sunday,
Within that Chapel-aisle I lay,
And no man came a-near.

Naked to the waist was I,
And deep within my breast did lie,
Though no man any blood could spy,
The truncheon of a ..."></div>
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