In a woodland place that was not the way, evening came concealed,

Weeping and sighing in lands unknown, with dusty roads not filled.

No gladdening beast or Queen of The Woods, or sacred armor donned,

A pondering Knight with waving fields steadily galloped on.

A perfect spring day like rare old wine, drifted and settled in,

A great wind arose off the stormy sea that drew his breath again.

It looked as if the light would last, but it was too dark too see,

He entered there with confidence, sure of men much older than he.

He first mistook the smoke, wavering in the draught,

For a company unknown, the world had long forgot.

No harder day had there ever been, or would there be before,

When all at once the darkness came sweeping up the shore.