Gone while your tastes were keen to you, br Gone where the grey winds call to you, br By that high fencer, even Death, br Struck of the blade that no man parrieth; br Such is your fence, one saith, br One that hath known you. br Drew you your sword most gallantly br Made you your pass most valiantly br 'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death. br br Gone as a gust of breath br Faith! no man tarrieth, br ‘Se il cor ti manca,’ but it failed thee not! br 'Non ti fidar,’ it is the sword that speaks br ‘In me.’ br br Thou trusted'st in thyself and met the blade br 'Thout mask or gauntlet, and art laid br As memorable broken blades that be br Kept as bold trophies of old pageantry. br As old Toledos past their days of war br Are kept mnemonic of the strokes they bore, br So art thou with us, being good to keep br In our heart's sword-rack, though thy sword-arm sleep. br br ENVOI br Struck of the blade that no man parrieth br Pierced of the point that toucheth lastly all, br 'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death, br Behold the shield! He shall not take thee all.