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 wore; I wore but white:
    Red, brown, and white, are three;
Three damozels; each had a knight,
    When the Sword went out to sea.

Sir Robert shouted loud, and said:
    When the Sword went out to sea,
Alicia, while I see thy head,
    What shall I bring for thee?
O, my sweet Lord, a ruby red:
    The Sword went out to sea.

Sir Miles said, while the sails hung down,
    When the Sword went out to sea,
O, Ursula! while I see the town,
    What shall I bring for thee?
Dear knight, bring back a falcon brown:
    The Sword went out to sea.

But my Roland, no word he said
    When the Sword went out to sea,
But only turn'd away his head;
    A quick shriek came from me:
Come back, dear lord, to your white maid.
    The Sword went out to sea.

The hot sun bit the garden-beds
    When the Sword came back from sea;
Beneath an apple-tree our heads
    Stretched out toward the sea;
Grey gleam'd the thirsty castle-leads,
    When the Sword came back from sea.

Lord Robert brought a ruby red,
    When the Sword came back from sea;
He kissed Alicia on the head:
    I am come back to thee;
'Tis time, sweet love, that we were wed,
    Now the Sword is back from sea!

Sir Miles he bore a falcon brown,
    When the Sword came back from sea;
His arms went round tall Ursula's gown:
    What joy, O love, but thee?
Let us be wed in the good town,
    Now the Sword is back from sea!

My heart grew sick, no more afraid,
    When the Sword came back from sea;
Upon the deck a tall white maid
    Sat on Lord Roland's knee;
His chin was press'd upon her head,
    When the Sword came back from sea!

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

Love's Reward.

William Morris, Simple Poetry

The Son's Sorrow. From The Icelandic.

William Morris, Simple Poetry

Another For The Briar-Rose.

William Morris, Simple Poetry

English

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Golden Wings

Midways of a wallèd garden,
    In the happy poplar land,
    Did an ancient castle stand,
With an old knight for a warden.

Many scarlet bricks there were
    In its walls, and old grey stone;
    Over which red apples shone
At the right time of the year.

On the bricks the green moss grew.
    Yellow lichen on the stone,
    Over which red apples shone;
Little war that castle knew.

Deep green water fill'd the moat,
    Each side had a red-brick lip,
    Green and mossy with the drip
Of dew and rain; there was a boat

Of carven wood, with hangings green
    About the stern; it was great bliss
    For lovers to sit there and kiss
In the hot summer noons, not seen.

Across the moat the fresh west wind
    In ve...

William Morris

Love's Reward.

It was a knight of the southern land
Rode forth upon the way
When the birds sang sweet on either hand
About the middle of the May.

But when he came to the lily-close,
Thereby so fair a maiden stood,
That neither the lily nor the rose
Seemed any longer fair nor good.

"All hail, thou rose and lily-bough!
What dost thou weeping here,
For the days of May are sweet enow,
And the nights of May are dear?"

"Well may I weep and make my moan,
Who am bond and captive here;
Well may I weep who lie alone,
Though May be waxen dear."

"And is there none shall ransom thee;
Mayst thou no borrow find?"
"Nay, what man may my borrow be,
When all my wealth is left behind?

"Perchance some ring is left with thee,
Some belt that d...

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

Spell-Bound

How weary is it none can tell,
    How dismally the days go by!
I hear the tinkling of the bell,
    I see the cross against the sky.

The year wears round to Autumn-tide,
    Yet comes no reaper to the corn;
The golden land is like a bride
    When first she knows herself forlorn;

She sits and weeps with all her hair
    Laid downward over tender hands;
For stainèd silk she hath no care,
    No care for broken ivory wands;

The silver cups beside her stand;
    The golden stars on the blue roof
Yet glitter, though against her hand
    His cold sword presses for a proof

He is not dead, but gone away.
    How many hours did she wait
For me, I wonder? Till the day
    Had faded wholly, and the gate

Clanged to behin...

William Morris

The Harp Of Hoel.[1]

    It was a high and holy sight,
    When Baldwin^[2] and his train,
    With cross and crosier gleaming bright,
    Came chanting slow the solemn rite,
    To Gwentland's^[3] pleasant plain.

    High waved before, in crimson pride,
    The banner of the Cross;
    The silver rood was then descried,
    While deacon youths, from side to side,
    The fuming censer toss.

    The monks went two and two along,
    And winding through the glade,
    Sang, as they passed, a holy song,
    And harps and citterns, 'mid the throng,
    A mingled music made.

    They ceased; when lifting high his hand,
    The white-robed prelate cried:
    Arise, arise, at Christ's command,
    To fight for his name in the Holy Land,

William Lisle Bowles

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 amidst 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 draught and draught,
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 ...

William Morris