.....

And Martin Dane home from his hunting came,
And heard, and saw them lying side by side,
And wondered how could folly pay so much
For so unsound and gossipy an end,
Gave his instructions for a decent grave,
And found a tap-room topic to his mind.

.....

That night the promise of the dawn was full,
And on the broken mill a clear moon shone,
Silvering all the ways the lovers knew. 
And by the wreck a shadowy figure watched,
Half Lake, and half that old Helvellyn lover,
And on the night a whispered cadence fell—­

Again in the world, a story has been made,
These looked upon beauty unafraid,
O these were lovely, these were the great ones, they dared,
And denied not, but upon love’s bidding fared.

Pity them not; they would scorn that as your hate,
They knew the voices, they knew the hours that mate
With hours beyond all judgment of mankind,
These were the proud adventurers of the mind.

Kindled for ever because of them shall be
A wiser freedom.  The long lanes of the sea,
The golden acres of Sussex shall holy keep
Their names, their love, their ending.  Let them sleep.

GOLD

There is a castle on a hill,
  So far into the sky,
That birds that from the valley-beds
  Up to the turrets fly,
Climbing towards the sun can feel
  The clouds go tumbling by.

But always far above the clouds
  The sun is shining there,
It shines for ever on those walls;
  And the great boughs that bear
Harvests of never fading fruit
  Are golden everywhere.

Who journeys to that castled crest
  Finds, with his journey done,
All ages and all colours in
  Cascades of light that run
Over the broad weirs of the air
  For ever from the sun.

Two things are silver:  flower of plum
  When April yet is cold;
And willowed floods that of the moon
  Quiet leases hold. 
That castle in the sky alone
  Of living things is gold.

Between unfathomable blue
  And the bright belts of green,
Midway the plains of heaven and earth,
  Rock-borne it stands between
Woods and the sky, a golden world
  Where only gold is seen.

Old carvers in the stone have cut
  Forests and wraths and herds,
And these are gold:  the dials tell
  The sun in golden words;
The very jackdaws, from the towers
  Wheeling, are golden birds.

The minting of the sun is on
  The gravel everywhere,
The yellow walls are fleeces washed
  In pools of sunny air,
That coming to that castle place
  All men are Jasons there.

Trancelike to stand upon that hill
  When the deep summer sings,
Gold-clad, gold-hearted, and gold-voiced,
  And sings and sings and sings,
Is as to wait a rising world
  In flight of golden wings.