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.
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.
Of working baser metal than of fine;
hut to those fate-wrought rings of precious ore
I add these rugged iron links of mine.
