Thereat the dwarf peer'd curiously up Into his master's face, and
seeing naught Unusual in its kingly grace, had turn'd, But turning,
caught the echo of a sigh, And knew his arrow reach'd King Arthur's
heart. Thereafter fell a silence on the twain And Arthur mus'd as
sadly as before On hopes that had been his in long-past days When
he had plann'd the healing of the world. Slow past a morning hour
until at last A momentary vagrant breeze, that thro' The high,
unlatticed, open window swept, Tost aimlessly an early wither'd
leaf Into the kingly lap.
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