Her father laid the letter in her hand,
And closed the hand upon it and she died.
So that day there was dole in Astolat.

But when the next sun brake from underground,
Then, those two brethren slowly with bent brows
Accompanying, the sad chariot-bier

Passed like a shadow through the field, that shone
Full-summer, to that stream whereon the barge,
Pall'd all its length in blackest samite, lay.
There sat the lifelong creature of the house,
Loyal, the dumb old servitor, on deck,
Winking his eyes, and twisted all his face.
So those two brethren from the chariot took
And on the black decks laid her in her bed,
Set in her hand a lily, o'er her hung
The silken case with braided blazonings,
And kissed her quiet brows, and saying to her,
"Sister, farewell forever," and again,
"Farewell, sweet sister," parted all in tears.

Then rose the dumb old servitor, and the dead
Steer'd by the dumb went upward with the flood-
In her right hand the lily, in her left

The letter-all her bright hair streaming down-
And all the coverlid was cloth of gold
Drawn to her waist, and she herself in white
All but her face, and that clear-featured face
Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead
But fast asleep, and lay as though she smiled.

Then while Sir Lancelot leant, in half disgust At love, life, all things, on the window ledge, Close underneath his eyes, and right across Where these had fallen, slowly passed the barge Whereon the lily maid of Astolat

Lay smiling, like a star in blackest night.

But the wild Queen, who saw not, burst away

To weep and wail in secret; and the barge

On to the palace-doorway sliding, paused.

There two stood armed, and kept the door; to whom, All up the marble stair, tier over tier,