The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III, IV, V, VI. |
| VII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
 | XVII. |
|
| XXI. |
| XXIV. |
 | CHAPTER VI. OF FACE-OF-GOD AND THOSE MOUNTAIN DWELLERS.
The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
46
[The Song of the Ford.]
In hay-tide, through the day new-born,
Across the meads we come;
Our hauberks brush the blossomed corn
A furlong short of home.
Across the meads we come;
Our hauberks brush the blossomed corn
A furlong short of home.
Ere yet the gables we behold
Forth flasheth the red sun,
And smites our fallow helms and cold
Though all the fight be done.
Forth flasheth the red sun,
And smites our fallow helms and cold
Though all the fight be done.
In this last mead of mowing-grass
Sweet doth the clover smell,
Crushed 'neath our feet red with the pass
Where hell was blent with hell.
Sweet doth the clover smell,
Crushed 'neath our feet red with the pass
Where hell was blent with hell.
And now the willowy stream is nigh,
Down wend we to the ford;
No shafts across its fishes fly,
Nor flasheth there a sword.
Down wend we to the ford;
No shafts across its fishes fly,
Nor flasheth there a sword.
But lo! what gleameth on the bank
Across the water wan,
As when our blood the mouse-ear drank
And red the river ran?
Across the water wan,
As when our blood the mouse-ear drank
And red the river ran?
47
Nay, hasten to the ripple clear,
Look at the grass beyond!
Lo ye the dainty band and dear
Of maidens fair and fond!
Look at the grass beyond!
Lo ye the dainty band and dear
Of maidens fair and fond!
Lo how they needs must take the stream!
The water hides their feet;
On fair kind arms the gold doth gleam,
And midst the ford we meet.
The water hides their feet;
On fair kind arms the gold doth gleam,
And midst the ford we meet.
Up through the garden two and two,
And on the flowers we drip;
Their wet feet kiss the morning dew
As lip lies close to lip.
And on the flowers we drip;
Their wet feet kiss the morning dew
As lip lies close to lip.
Here now we sing; here now we stay:
By these grey walls we tell
The love that lived from out the fray,
The love that fought and fell.
By these grey walls we tell
The love that lived from out the fray,
The love that fought and fell.
| CHAPTER VI. OF FACE-OF-GOD AND THOSE MOUNTAIN DWELLERS.
The Collected Works of William Morris | |