From that fair land and drear land in the South, Of which through years I do not cease to think, I brought a tale, learned not by word of mouthy But formed by finding here one golden link And there another; and with hands unskilled For such fine work, but patient of all pain for love of it, I sought therefrom to build What might have been at first the goodly chain.
It is not golden now: my craft knows more Of working baser metal than of fine; hut to those fate-wrought rings of precious ore I add these rugged iron links of mine.
