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One more day away from Alexandria
And night is long to sail –
Rolling in a slow procession moved a place,
A city fair and strange.

Send the felon winds and every gust of wings
Toward Bayona’s Hold
Over tides of dark I’ll ever know your love
An uncrowned whitethorn blown:

“Fame isn’t mortal,
nor does it lie in rumour, nor in your pride
But in the Laurel you’ll reign afar
And in the Silence of you
in your rain, in your garden
in the sun on the rill
in Alexandria.”

As one so long prepared
you’ll hear the midnight voices,
Don’t you mourn them now!
Don’t betray your hope, and say goodbye to her –
Your Alexandria.

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