Chapter 29 : 
Gunnar's Howe Above The House At Lithend
--------------------------------------------------------------------

People :
----------------------------------

Author : William Morris

Text :
----------------------------------



Ye who have come o'er the sea  
to behold this gray minster of lands,  
Whose floor is the tomb of time past,  
and whose walls by the toil of dead hands  
Show pictures amid of the ruin  
of deeds that have overpast death,  
Stay by this tomb in a tomb  
to ask of who lieth beneath.  
Ah! the world changeth too soon,  
that ye stand there with unbated breath,  
As I name him that Gunnar of old,  
who erst in the haymaking tide  
Felt all the land fragrant and fresh,  
as amid of the edges he died.  
Too swiftly fame fadeth away,  
if ye tremble not lest once again  
The gray mound should open and show him  
glad-eyed without grudging or pain.  
Little labor methinks to behold him  
but the tale-teller labored in vain.  

Little labor for ears that may hearken  
to hear his death-conquering song,  
Till the heart swells to think of the gladness  
undying that overcame wrong.  
O young is the world yet meseemeth  
and the hope of it flourishing green,  
When the words of a man unremembered  
so bridge all the days that have been,  
As we look round about on the land  
that these nine hundred years he hath seen.  

Dusk is abroad on the grass  
of this valley amid of the hill:  
Dusk that shall never be dark  
till the dawn hard on midnight shall fill  
The trench under Eyiafell's snow,  
and the gray plain the sea meeteth gray.  
White, high aloft hangs the moon  
that no dark night shall brighten ere day,  
For here day and night toileth the summer  
lest deedless his time pass away.  


     From : Marxists.org

Events :
----------------------------------

     Chapter 29 -- Added : February 26, 2021

About This Textfile :
----------------------------------

     Text file generated from : 
http://revoltlib.com/