NEVER-TO-BE

Down by the waters of the sea

Reigns the King of Never-to-be.

His palace walls are black with night;

His torches star and moon's light,

And for his timepiece deep and grave

Beats on the green unhastening wave.

Windswept are his high corridors;

His pleasance the sea-mantled shores;

For sentinel a shadow stands

With hair in heaven, and cloudy hands;

And round his bed, king's guards to be,

Watch pines in iron solemnity.

His hound is mute; his steed at will

Roams pastures deep with asphodel;

His queen is to her slumber gone;

His courtiers mute lie, hewn in stone;

He hath forgot where he did hide

His sceptre in the mountain-side.

Grey-capped and muttering, mad is he —

The childless King of Never-to-be;

For all his people in the deep

Keep, everlasting, fast asleep;

And all his realm is foam and rain,

Whispering of what comes not again.