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The Spike: or, Victoria College Review 1912

The Dream

The Dream.

One tender summer eve there came
To me a glorious dream,
In which all common toil and care
Far in the past did seem.
Methought King Arthur and his knights
Held tourney through the land,
And all things base and all things foul
Fled 'fore that joyous band.
And by the King, Sir Lancelot
In steely armour gleamed,
While from a thousand trenchant spears
King Arthur's pennants streamed.
Sir Galahad in golden arms
Sped past, and on his mail,
As though a blood-red meteor shone,
There glowed the Holy Grail.
And all this noble company
Most humbly did revere,
As though Our Lady's form she bore,
A stainless Guinevere.
But as I joined the song of praise,
Quick snapped the bands of sleep,
The dark night settled o'er the land,
What could I do but weep?