William Morris

The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems


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       William Morris

      The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4057664612793

       THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE

       KING ARTHUR'S TOMB

       KING ARTHUR'S TOMB

       SIR GALAHAD, A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY

       SIR GALAHAD, A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY

       THE CHAPEL IN LYONESS

       THE CHAPEL IN LYONESS

       SIR PETER HARPDON'S END

       SIR PETER HARPDON'S END

       RAPUNZEL

       RAPUNZEL

       CONCERNING GEFFRAY TESTE NOIRE

       CONCERNING GEFFRAY TESTE NOIRE

       A GOOD KNIGHT IN PRISON

       OLD LOVE

       THE GILLIFLOWER OF GOLD

       SHAMEFUL DEATH

       THE EVE OF CRECY

       THE JUDGMENT OF GOD

       THE LITTLE TOWER

       THE SAILING OF THE SWORD

       SPELL-BOUND

       THE WIND

       THE BLUE CLOSET

       THE TUNE OF SEVEN TOWERS

       GOLDEN WINGS

       THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS

       TWO RED ROSES ACROSS THE MOON

       WELLAND RIVER

       RIDING TOGETHER

       FATHER JOHN'S WAR-SONG

       SIR GILES' WAR-SONG

       NEAR AVALON

       PRAISE OF MY LADY

       SUMMER DAWN

       IN PRISON

       Table of Contents

      BUT, knowing now that they would have her speak,

       She threw her wet hair backward from her brow,

       Her hand close to her mouth touching her cheek,

      As though she had had there a shameful blow,

       And feeling it shameful to feel ought but shame

       All through her heart, yet felt her cheek burned so,

      She must a little touch it; like one lame

       She walked away from Gauwaine, with her head

       Still lifted up; and on her cheek of flame

      The tears dried quick; she stopped at last and said:

       O knights and lords, it seems but little skill

       To talk of well-known things past now and dead.

      God wot I ought to say, I have done ill,

       And pray you all forgiveness heartily!

       Because you must be right, such great lords; still

      Listen, suppose your time were come to die,

       And you were quite alone and very weak;

       Yea, laid a dying while very mightily

      The wind was ruffling up the narrow streak

       Of river through your broad lands running well:

       Suppose a hush should come, then some one speak:

      'One of these cloths is heaven, and one is hell,

       Now choose one cloth for ever; which they be,

       I will not tell you, you must somehow tell

      Of your own strength and mightiness; here, see!'

       Yea, yea, my lord, and you to ope your eyes,

       At foot of your familiar bed to see

      A great God's angel standing, with such dyes,

       Not known on earth, on his great wings, and hands,

       Held out two ways, light from the inner skies

      Showing him well, and making his