Near Avalon

A ship with shields before the sun,
Six maidens round the mast,
A red-gold crown on every one,
A green gown on the last.

The fluttering green banners there
Are wrought with ladies' heads most fair,
And a portraiture of Guenevere
The middle of each sail doth bear.

A ship which sails before the wind,
And round the helm six knights,
Their heaumes are on, whereby, half blind,
They pass by many sights.

The tatter'd scarlet banners there,
Right soon will leave the spear-heads bare.
Those six knights sorrowfully bear,
In all their heaumes some yellow hair.

William Morris

William Morris was a British textile designer, poet, novelist, translator, and socialist activist. Associated with the British Arts and Crafts Movement, he was a major influence on the development of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Morris is recognized for his contributions to the revival of traditional British textile arts and methods of production. He was also a founding member of the Socialist League and played a significant role in the early Socialist movement in England. His works reflect his political views and his passion for medievalism and craftsmanship.

William Morris

Praise Of My Lady

William Morris, Simple Poetry

A Good Knight In Prison

William Morris, Simple Poetry

Drawing Near The Light.

William Morris, Simple Poetry

The Lion.

William Morris, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Two Red Roses Across The Moon

There was a lady lived in a hall,
Large of her eyes, and slim and tall;
And ever she sung from noon to noon,
Two red roses across the moon.

There was a knight came riding by
In early spring, when the roads were dry;
And he heard that lady sing at the noon,
Two red roses across the moon.

Yet none the more he stopp'd at all,
But he rode a-gallop past the hall;
And left that lady singing at noon,
Two red roses across the moon.

Because, forsooth, the battle was set,
And the scarlet and blue had got to be met,
He rode on the spur till the next warm noon:
Two red roses across the moon.

But the battle was scatter'd from hill to hill,
From the windmill to the watermill;
And he said to himself, as it near'd ...

William Morris

The Little Tower

Up and away through the drifting rain!
Let us ride to the Little Tower again,

Up and away from the council board!
Do on the hauberk, gird on the sword.

The king is blind with gnashing his teeth,
Change gilded scabbard to leather sheath:

Though our arms are wet with the slanting rain,
This is joy to ride to my love again:

I laugh in his face when he bids me yield;
Who knows one field from the other field,

For the grey rain driveth all astray?
Which way through the floods, good carle, I pray

The left side yet! the left side yet!
Till your hand strikes on the bridge parapet.

Yea so: the causeway holdeth good
Under the water? Hard as wood,

Right away to the uplands; speed, good knight!
Seven hours yet before the...

William Morris

The Sailing Of The Sword

Across the empty garden-beds,
    When the Sword went out to sea,
I scarcely saw my sisters' heads
    Bowed each beside a tree.
I could not see the castle leads,
    When the Sword went out to sea,

Alicia wore a scarlet gown,
    When the Sword went out to sea,
But Ursula's was russet brown:
    For the mist we could not see
The scarlet roofs of the good town,
    When the Sword went out to sea.

Green holly in Alicia's hand,
    When the Sword went out to sea;
With sere oak-leaves did Ursula stand;
    O! yet alas for me!
I did but bear a peel'd white wand,
    When the Sword went out to sea.

O, russet brown and scarlet bright,
    When the Sword went out to sea,
My sisters...

William Morris

Cadland,[1] Southampton River.

If ever sea-maid, from her coral cave,
Beneath the hum of the great surge, has loved
To pass delighted from her green abode,
And, seated on a summer bank, to sing
No earthly music; in a spot like this,
The bard might feign he heard her, as she dried
Her golden hair, yet dripping from the main,
In the slant sunbeam.
So the pensive bard
Might image, warmed by this enchanting scene,
The ideal form; but though such things are not,
He who has ever felt a thought refined;
He who has wandered on the sea of life,
Forming delightful visions of a home
Of beauty and repose; he who has loved,
With filial warmth his country, will not pass
Without a look of more than tenderness
On all the scene; from where the pensile birch
Bends on the bank, amid the clustered gr...

William Lisle Bowles

Sir Galahad, A Christmas Mystery

It is the longest night in all the year,
    Near on the day when the Lord Christ was born;
Six hours ago I came and sat down here,
    And ponder'd sadly, wearied and forlorn.

The winter wind that pass'd the chapel door,
    Sang out a moody tune, that went right well
With mine own thoughts: I look'd down on the floor,
    Between my feet, until I heard a bell

Sound a long way off through the forest deep,
    And toll on steadily; a drowsiness
Came on me, so that I fell half asleep,
    As I sat there not moving: less and less

I saw the melted snow that hung in beads
    Upon my steel-shoes; less and less I saw
Between the tiles the bunches of small weeds:
    Heartless and stupid, with no touch of awe

Upon me, half-shut eyes upon the ...

William Morris

Welland River

Fair Ellayne she walk'd by Welland river,
    Across the lily lee:
O, gentle Sir Robert, ye are not kind
    To stay so long at sea.

Over the marshland none can see
    Your scarlet pennon fair;
O, leave the Easterlings alone,
    Because of my golden hair.

The day when over Stamford bridge
    That dear pennon I see
Go up toward the goodly street,
    'Twill be a fair day for me.

O, let the bonny pennon bide
    At Stamford, the good town,
And let the Easterlings go free,
    And their ships go up and down.

For every day that passes by
    I wax both pale and green,
From gold to gold of my girdle
    There is an inch between.

I sew'd it up with scarlet silk
    Last night upon my knee,
And my heart g...

William Morris