The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems (William Morris Library) by William Morris

Author:William Morris [Morris, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, novel, book, bestseller, top10, interactive media, urban romantics
Publisher: Sovereign Classic
Published: 2019-09-22T00:00:00+00:00

My heavy body on the beech-nuts lie.

Now I remember what a most strange year,

Most strange and awful, in the beechen wood

I have pass’d now; I still have a faint fear

It is a kind of dream not understood.

I have seen no one in this wood except

The witch and her; have heard no human tones,

But when the witches’ revelry has crept

Between the very jointing of my bones.

Ah! I know now; I could not go away,

But needs must stop to hear her sing that song

She always sings at dawning of the day.

I am not happy here, for I am strong,

And every morning do I whet my sword,

Yet Rapunzel still weeps within the tower,

And still God ties me down to the green sward,

Because I cannot see the gold stair floating lower.

Rapunzel sings from the tower.

My mother taught me prayers

To say when I had need;

I have so many cares,

That I can take no heed

Of many words in them;

But I remember this:

Christ, bring me to thy bliss.

Mary, maid withouten wem,

Keep me! I am lone, I wis,

Yet besides I have made this

By myself: Give me a kiss,

Dear God dwelling up in heaven!

Also: Send me a true knight,

Lord Christ, with a steel sword, bright,

Broad, and trenchant; yea, and seven

Spans from hilt to point, O Lord!

And let the handle of his sword

Be gold on silver, Lord in heaven!

Such a sword as I see gleam

Sometimes, when they let me dream.

Yea, besides, I have made this:

Lord, give Mary a dear kiss,

And let gold Michael, who looked down,

When I was there, on Rouen town

From the spire, bring me that kiss

On a lily! Lord do this!

These prayers on the dreadful nights,

When the witches plait my hair,

And the fearfullest of sights

On the earth and in the air,

Will not let me close my eyes,

I murmur often, mix’d with sighs,

That my weak heart will not hold

At some things that I behold.

Nay, not sighs, but quiet groans,

That swell out the little bones

Of my bosom; till a trance

God sends in middle of that dance,

And I behold the countenance

Of Michael, and can feel no more

The bitter east wind biting sore

My naked feet; can see no more

The crayfish on the leaden floor,

That mock with feeler and grim claw.

Yea, often in that happy trance,

Beside the blessed countenance

Of golden Michael, on the spire

Glowing all crimson in the fire

Of sunset, I behold a face,

Which sometime, if God give me grace,

May kiss me in this very place.

Evening in the tower.

Rapunzel.

IT grows half way between the dark and light;

Love, we have been six hours here alone:

I fear that she will come before the night,

And if she finds us thus we are undone.

The Prince.

Nay, draw a little nearer, that your breath

May touch my lips, let my cheek feel your arm;

Now tell me, did you ever see a death,

Or ever see a man take mortal harm?

Rapunzel.

Once came two knights and fought with swords below,

And while they fought I scarce could look at all,

My head swam so; after, a moaning low

Drew my eyes down; I saw against the wall

One knight lean dead, bleeding from head and breast,

Yet seem’d

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