On the Way to Avalon
by: Florence Peacock
Yet it may be I shall sleep sound,
And nothing shall mar my rest.
Though I have no bed, like others,
Deep down in the earth's soft breast.
If Merlin spake true, I shall wait there,
With nought to disturb my sleep,
As calmly in Avalon lying
As though my grave were deep.
Till the day I return to my people,
Ere all things have passed away;
For after the night has vanished,
He spoke of an earthly day.
Is it the truth; must I slumber?
Or watch through the changing years,
Till that which must be is ended--
The toil, the sorrow, the tears.
There are dreams in the soundest sleep, though,
And I may be back once more,
With the Knights of the Table round me,
In the glorious days of yore.
The days ere a stain had fallen
On the lily clasped close to my breast,
Ere ever he stopped to dishonour,
The friend whom I loved best.
Pray God that Merlin has lied,
And I may awake no more,
Till, all earthly sins forgiven,
We meet on the heavenly shore.
Yes; let me sleep quiet and silent,
Till the day I awake in that land,
Where all the dark past is forgotten,
And I may clasp Lancelot's hand.
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