Thabor of England! since my light is short 
And faint, O rather by the sun anew 
Of timeless passion set my dial true, 
That with thy saints and thee I may consort, 
And wafted in the calm Chaucerian port 
Of poets, seem a little sail long due, 
And be as one the call of memory drew 
Unto the saddle void since Agincourt! 

Not now for secular love's unquiet lease 
Receive my soul, who rapt in thee erewhile 
Hath broken tryst with transitory things; 
But seal with her a marriage and a peace 
Eternal, on thine Edward's holy isle, 
Above the stormy sea of ending kings.