The King On The Tower

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The cold gray hills they bind me around,
 The darksome valleys lie sleeping below,
But the winds as they pass o'er all this ground,
 Bring me never a sound of woe!

Oh! for all I have suffered and striven,
 Care has embittered my cup and my feast;
But here is the night and the dark blue heaven,
 And my soul shall be at rest.

O golden legends writ in the skies!
 I turn towards you with longing soul,
And list to the awful harmonies
 Of the Spheres as on they roll.

My hair is gray and my sight nigh gone;
 My sword it rusteth upon the wall;
Right have I spoken, and right have I done:
 When shall I rest me once for all?

O blessed rest! O royal night!
 Wherefore seemeth the time so long
Till I see you stars in their fullest light,
And list to their loudest song?

© William Makepeace Thackeray