When deadly flesh, oh knight, shall see The spiritual things, The samite cloth, the Mystery, The long street where the wings Of eagles are the minstrelsy, And winnow death, like dust away Upon a windy day.
Then, if thine arm, like Galahad, And thy heart tremble too, Heave up, oh knight, thy hands, full glad To know the death he knew The samite drawn, the Grail unclad Logris and beyond the sea That sails to Ar'mathie.
There, healed and solaced by the Grail, Thy wounds shall hurt not so: But He, that Knight whom men did nail Upon the tree shall show Those wounds they made, that brow left pale By death, which call and bid thee come Safe, oh knight errant, home.
