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Poem	I Lady and Queen and Mystery manifold And very Regent of the untroubled sky, Whom in a dream St. Hilda did behold And heard a woodland music passing by: You shall receive me when the clouds are high With evening and the sheep attain the fold. This is the faith that I have held and hold, And this is that in which I mean to die. II Steep are the seas and savaging and cold In broken waters terrible to try; And vast against the winter night the wold, And harbourless for any sail to lie. But you shall lead me to the lights, and I Shall hymn you in a harbour story told. This is the faith that I have held and hold, And this is that in which I mean to die. III Help of the half-defeated, House of gold, Shrine of the Sword, and Tower of Ivory; Splendour apart, supreme and aureoled, The Battler's vision and the World's reply. You shall restore me, O my last Ally, To vengence and the glories of the bold. This is the faith that I have held and hold, And this is that in which I mean to die. Envoi Prince of the degradations, bought and sold, These verses, written in your crumbling sty, Proclaim the faith that I have held and hold And publish that in which I mean to die.
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