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The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems By: William Morris (1834-1896) |
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DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE AND OTHER POEMS BY WILLIAM MORRIS REPRINTED FROM THE KELMSCOTT PRESS EDITION AS REVISED BY THE AUTHOR LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA 1908 All rights reserved First Edition, BELL & DALDY, 1858 Reprinted, 1875, for ELLIS & WHITE, and Subsequently for REEVES & TURNER Kelmscott Press Edition (revised by the Author), 1892 Transferred to LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 1896 New Edition corrected by Kelmscott Press Edition, May 1900 Reprinted January 1908 CONTENTS PAGE The Defence of Guenevere 1 King Arthur's Tomb 19 Sir Galahad, a Christmas Mystery 43 The Chapel in Lyoness 57 Sir Peter Harpdon's End 65 Rapunzel 111 Concerning Geffray Teste Noire 135 A Good Knight in Prison 148 Old Love 155 The Gilliflower of Gold 159 Shameful Death 163 The Eve of Crecy 166 The Judgment of God 169 The Little Tower 174 The Sailing of the Sword 178 Spell Bound 182 The Wind 187 The Blue Closet 194 The Tune of Seven Towers 199 Golden Wings 202 The Haystack in the Floods 215 Two Red Roses across the Moon 223 Welland River 226 Riding Together 231 Father John's War Song 234 Sir Giles' War Song 237 Near Avalon 239 Praise of My Lady 241 Summer Dawn 246 In Prison 247 THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE 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 commands Seem to be God's commands, moreover, too, Holding within his hands the cloths on wands; And one of these strange choosing cloths was blue, Wavy and long, and one cut short and red; No man could tell the better of the two... Continue reading book >>
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Literature |
Poetry |
Romance |
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