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.)

To The Muse Of The North
O muse that swayest the sad Northern Song, Thy right hand full of smiting & of wrong, Thy left hand holding pity; & thy breast Heaving with hope of that so certain rest: Thou, with the gray eyes kind and unafraid, The soft lips trembling not, though they have said The doom of the World and those that dwell therein. The lips that smile not though thy children win The fated Love that draws the fated Death. O, borne adown the fresh stream of thy breath, Let some word reach my ears and touch my heart, That, if it may be, I may have a part In that great sorrow of thy children dead That vexed the brow, and bowed adown the head, Whitened the hair, made life a wondrous dream, And death the murmur of a restful stream, But left no stain upon ... (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.)

Iceland First Seen
Lo from our loitering ship a new land at last to be seen; Toothed rocks down the side of the firth on the east guard a weary wide lea, And black slope the hill-sides above, striped adown with their desolate green: And a peak rises up on the west from the meeting of cloud and of sea, Foursquare from base unto point like the building of Gods that have been, The last of that waste of the mountains all cloud-wreathed and snow-flecked and gray, And bright with the dawn that began just now at the ending of day. Ah! what came we forth for to see that our hearts are so hot with desire? Is it enough for our rest, the sight of this desolate strand, And the mountain-waste voiceless as death but for winds that may sleep not nor tire? Why do we long to ... (From : Marxists.org.)

The Raven And The King's Daughter
King's daughter sitting in tower so high, Fair summer is on many a shield. Why weepest thou as the clouds go by? Fair sing the swans 'twixt firth and field. Why weepest thou in the window-seat Till the tears run through thy fingers sweet? The King's Daughter. I weep because I sit alone Betwixt these walls of lime and stone. Fair folk are in my father's hall, But for me he built this guarded wall. And here the gold on the green I sew Nor tidings of my true-love know. The Raven. King's daughter, sitting above the sea, I shall tell thee a tale shall gladden thee. Yestreen I saw a ship go forth When the wind blew merry from the north. And by the tiller Steingrim sat, And O, but my heart was glad thereat! For 'twixt ashen plank and dark blue sea... (From : Marxists.org.)

The Message Of The March Wind
Fair now is the springtide, now earth lies beholding With the eyes of a lover, the face of the sun; Long lasteth the daylight, and hope is enfolding The green-growing acres with increase begun. Now sweet, sweet it is through the land to be straying 'Mid the birds and the blossoms and the beasts of the field; Love mingles with love, and no evil is weighing On thy heart or mine, where all sorrow is healed. From township to township, o'er down and by tillage Fair, far have we wandered and long was the day; But now cometh eve at the end of the village, Where over the gray wall the church riseth gray. There is wind in the twilight; in the white road before us The straw from the ox-yard is blowing about; The moon's rim is rising, a star glitters ... (From : Marxists.org.)