Caroling Dusk/Lancelot

For works with similar titles, see Lancelot.
​

LANCELOT

The fruit of the orchard is over-ripe, Elaine,And leaves are crisping on the garden wall.Leaves on the garden path are wet and rainDrips from the low shrubs with a steady fall.
It is long, so long since I was here, Elaine,Moles have gnawed the rose tree at its root;You did not think that I would come again,Least of all in the day of falling fruit.

This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.