Poems by the Way

Chapter 45 : Goldilocks And Goldilocks
It was Goldilocks woke up in the morn At the first of the shearing of the corn. There stood his mother on the hearth And of new-leased wheat was little dearth. There stood his sisters by the quern, For the high-noon cakes they needs must earn. "O tell me Goldilocks my son, Why hast thou colored raiment on?" "Why should I wear the hodden gray When I am light of heart to-day?" "O tell us, brother, why ye wear In reaping-tide the scarlet gear? Why hangeth the sharp sword at thy side When through the land 'tis the hook goes wide?" "Gay-clad am I that men may know The freeman's son where'er I go. The grinded sword at side I bear Lest I the dastard's word should hear." "O tell me Goldilocks my son, Of whither away thou wilt be gone?" "The morn is fair and the... (From : Marxists.org.)

Chapter 44 : Hafbur And Signy
TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH. King Hafbur & King Siward They needs must stir up strife, All about the sweetling Signy Who was so fair a wife. O wilt thou win me then, or as fair a maid as I be? It was the King's son Hafbur Woke up amid the night, And 'gan to tell of a wondrous dream In swift words nowise light. "Me-dreamed I was in Heaven Amid that fair abode, And my true-love lay upon mine arm And we fell from cloud to cloud." As there they sat, the dames and maids, Of his words they took no keep, Only his mother well-beloved Heeded his dreamful sleep. "Go get thee gone to the mountain, And make no long delay; To the elve's eldest daughter For thy dream's areding pray." So the King's son, even Hafbur, Took his sword in his left hand,... (From : Marxists.org.)

Chapter 43 : Knight Aagen And Maiden Else
TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH. It was the fair knight Aagen To an isle he went his way, And plighted troth to Else, Who was so fair a may. He plighted troth to Else All with the ruddy gold, But or ere that day's moon came again Low he lay in the black, black mold. It was the maiden Else, She was fulfilled of woe When she heard how the fair knight Aagen In the black mold lay alow. Uprose the fair knight Aagen, Coffin on back took he, And he's away to her bower, Sore hard as the work might be. With that same chest on door he smote, For the lack of flesh and skin; "O hearken, maiden Else, And let thy true-love in!" Then answered maiden Else, "Never open I my door, But and if thou namest Jesu's name As thou hadst might before." "O hea... (From : Marxists.org.)

Chapter 42 : Agnes And The Hill-Man
TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH. Agnes went through the meadows a-weeping, Fowl are a-singing. There stood the hill-man heed thereof keeping. Agnes, fair Agnes! "Come to the hill, fair Agnes, with me, The reddest of gold will I give unto thee!" Twice went Agnes the hill round about, Then wended within, left the fair world without. In the hillside bode Agnes, three years thrice told o'er, For the green earth sithence fell she longing full sore. There she sat, and lullaby sang in her singing, And she heard how the bells of England were ringing. Agnes before her true-love did stand: "May I wend to the church of the English Land?" "To England's Church well mayst thou be gone, So that no hand thou lay the red gold upon. "So that when thou art come the churchyard anear Thou cast not abr... (From : Marxists.org.)

Chapter 41 : The Son's Sorrow
FROM THE ICELANDIC. The King has asked of his son so good, "Why art thou hushed and heavy of mood? O fair it is to ride abroad. Thou playest not, and thou laughest not; All thy good game is clean forgot." "Sit thou beside me, father dear, And the tale of my sorrow shalt thou hear. Thou sendedst me unto a far-off land, And gavest me into a good Earl's hand. Now had this good Earl daughters seven, The fairest of maidens under heaven. One brought me my meat when I should dine, One cut and sewed my raiment fine. One washed and combed my yellow hair, And one I fell to loving there. Befell it on so fair a day, We minded us to sport and play. Down in a dale my horse bound I, Bound on my saddle speedily. Bright red she was as the flickering flame... (From : Marxists.org.)

Pain And Time Strive Not
What part of the dread eternity Are those strange minutes that I gain, Mazed with the doubt of love and pain, When I thy delicate face may see, A little while before farewell? What share of the world's yearning-tide That flash, when new day bare and white Blots out my half-dream's faint delight, And there is nothing by my side, And well remembered is farewell? What drop in the gray flood of tears That time, when the long day toiled through, Worn out, shows naught for me to do, And nothing worth my labor bears The longing of that last farewell? What pity from the heavens above, What heed from out eternity, What word from the swift world for me? Speak, heed, and pity, O tender love, Who knew'st the days before farewell! (From : Marxists.org.)

The Two Sides Of The River
O Winter, O white winter, wert thou gone No more within the wilds were I alone Leaping with bent bow over stock and stone! No more alone my love the lamp should burn, Watching the weary spindle twist and turn, Or o'er the web hold back her tears and yearn: O winter, O white winter, wert thou gone! The Maidens. Sweet thoughts fly swiftlier than the drifting snow, And with the twisting threads sweet longings grow, And o'er the web sweet pictures come and go, For no white winter are we long alone. The Youths. O stream so changed, what hast thou done to me, That I thy glittering ford no more can see Wreathing with white her fair feet lovingly? See, in the rain she stands, and, looking down With frightened eyes upon thy whirlpools brown, Drops t... (From : Marxists.org.)

The Half Of Life Gone
The days have slain the days, and the seasons have gone by And brought me the summer again; and here on the grass I lie As erst I lay and was glad ere I meddled with right and with wrong. Wide lies the mead as of old, and the river is creeping along By the side of the elm-clad bank that turns its weedy stream; And gray o'er its hither lip the quivering rushes gleam. There is work in the mead as of old; they are eager at winning the hay, While every sun sets bright and begets a fairer day. The forks shine white in the sun round the yellow red-wheeled wain, Where the mountain of hay grows fast; and now from out of the lane Comes the ox-team drawing another, comes the bailiff and the beer, And thump, thump, goes the farmer's nag o'er the narro... (From : Marxists.org.)

The Hall And The Wood
'Twas in the water-dwindling tide When July days were done, Sir Rafe of Greenhowes, 'gan to ride In the earliest of the sun. He left the white-walled burg behind, He rode amid the wheat. The westland-gotten wind blew kind Across the acres sweet. Then rose his heart and cleared his brow, And slow he rode the way: "As then it was, so is it now, Not all hath worn away." So came he to the long green lane That leadeth to the ford, And saw the sickle by the wain Shine bright as any sword. The brown carles stayed 'twixt draft and draft, And murmuring, stood aloof, But one spake out when he had laughed: "God bless the Green-wood Roof!" Then o'er the ford and up he fared: And lo the happy hills! And the mountain-dale by summer cleared, That oft the ... (From : Marxists.org.)

The Day Is Coming
Come hither lads and hearken, for a tale there is to tell, Of the wonderful days a-coming, when all shall be better than well. And the tale shall be told of a country, a land in the midst of the sea, And folk shall call it England in the days that are going to be. There more than one in a thousand in the days that are yet to come, Shall have some hope of the morrow, some joy of the ancient home. For then, laugh not, but listen, to this strange tale of mine, All folk that are in England shall be better lodged than swine. Then a man shall work and bethink him, and rejoice in the deeds of his hand, Nor yet come home in the even too faint and weary to stand. Men in that time a-coming shall work and have no fear For to-morrow's lack of earning a... (From : Marxists.org.)