Within the kingdom of the fish
the fisher-king is king
his hooks, his lures bring surcease sweet
to those who sway beneath his sway
and at his plate sublimely meet
the tines, the teeth, the palate grey
the finless flay, the stingless sting
Within the kingdom of the fish
the fisher-king is strong
each darting shape among the reeds
dreams dreamless dreams of silvered halls
where throned and robed her sovran feeds
as twilight after twilight falls
and long they wait, and long
Yet in the kingdom of the fish
the consummation tarries
no trident spears, no net enfolds
as slumb’ring sleepless in our crèche
the like grip gripless our need holds
for ’gainst our citadel of flesh
no host invests, nor harries