几年前的旧作，写给Peter的个人向。

关于他和他对纳尼亚的告别。

文/安亦

The echoes all have drifted far

Into a misty, dying sound.

Bestowed his heart on a morning star;

It was never to be found.

In wood or hill or valley deep,

Voices soft he cherished.

A merry tune that haunts his sleep

Fled, like time, and perished.

One last look, O not so tearful;

He beamed at sweet times old.

One last song, no farewell wistful;

He walked in stories told.

Let kings more glorious be remembered

And greater legends sung!

His dusky dreams have always wandered

Where Lion's banner swung.