Poems by the Way

POEMS BY THE WAY
by William Morris
Contents:
From the Upland to the Sea
Of the Wooing of Hallbiorn the Strong

Echoes of Love's House
The Burghers' Battle
Hope Deith: Love
Liveth
Error and Loss
The Hall and the Wood
The Day of Days

To the Muse of the North
Of the Three Seekers
Love's
Gleaning-Tide
The Message of the March Wind
A Death Song

Iceland First Seen
The Raven and the King's Daughter
Spring's
Bedfellow
Meeting in Winter
The Two Sides of the River
Love
Fulfilled
The King of Denmark's Sons
On the Edge of the
Wilderness
A Garden by the Sea
Mother and Son
Thunder in the
Garden
The God of the Poor
Love's Reward
The Folk-Mote by
the River
The Voice of Toil
Gunnar's Howe above the House at
Lithend
The Day is Coming
Earth the Healer, Earth the Keeper

All for the Cause
Pain and Time Strive Not
Drawing near the Light

Verses for Pictures
For the Briar-Rose
Another for the Briar-Rose
The Woodpecker

The Lion
The Forest
Pomona
Flora
The Orchard
Tapestry
Trees
The Flowering Orchard
The End of May

The Half of Life
Gone
Mine and Thine
The Lay of Christine
Hildebrand and
Hellelil
The Son's Sorrow
Agnes and the Hill-Man
Knight Aagen
and Maiden Else
Hafbur and Signy
Goldilocks and Goldilocks
HERE BEGIN POEMS BY THE WAY.
WRITTEN BY
WILLIAM MORRIS.
AND FIRST IS THE POEM CALLED

FROM THE UPLAND TO THE SEA.
Shall we wake one morn of spring,
Glad at heart of everything,
Yet

pensive with the thought of eve?
Then the white house shall we leave,

Pass the wind-flowers and the bays,
Through the garth, and go our
ways,
Wandering down among the meads
Till our very joyance
needs
Rest at last; till we shall come
To that Sun-god's lonely home,

Lonely on the hill-side grey,
Whence the sheep have gone away;

Lonely till the feast-time is,
When with prayer and praise of bliss,

Thither comes the country side.
There awhile shall we abide,
Sitting
low down in the porch
By that image with the torch:
Thy one white
hand laid upon
The black pillar that was won
From the far-off
Indian mine;
And my hand nigh touching thine,
But not touching;
and thy gown
Fair with spring-flowers cast adown
From thy bosom
and thy brow.
There the south-west wind shall blow
Through thine
hair to reach my cheek,
As thou sittest, nor mayst speak,
Nor mayst
move the hand I kiss
For the very depth of bliss;
Nay, nor turn thine
eyes to me.
Then desire of the great sea
Nigh enow, but all unheard,

In the hearts of us is stirred,
And we rise, we twain at last,
And
the daffodils downcast,
Feel thy feet and we are gone
From the
lonely Sun-Crowned one.
Then the meads fade at our back,
And the
spring day 'gins to lack
That fresh hope that once it had;
But we
twain grow yet more glad,
And apart no more may go
When the
grassy slope and low
Dieth in the shingly sand:

Then we wander
hand in hand
By the edges of the sea,
And I weary more for thee

Than if far apart we were,
With a space of desert drear
'Twixt thy
lips and mine, O love!
Ah, my joy, my joy thereof!
OF THE WOOING OF HALLBIORN THE
STRONG. A
STORY FROM THE LANDSETTLING
BOOK OF ICELAND,
CHAPTER XXX.
At Deildar-Tongue in the autumn-tide,
So many times over comes
summer again,
Stood Odd of Tongue his door beside.
What healing
in summer if winter be vain?
Dim and dusk the day was grown,
As
he heard his folded wethers moan.
Then through the garth a man

drew near,
With painted shield and gold-wrought spear.
Good was
his horse and grand his gear,
And his girths were wet with
Whitewater.
"Hail, Master Odd, live blithe and long!
How fare the
folk at Deildar-Tongue?"
"All hail, thou Hallbiorn the Strong!
How
fare the folk by the Brothers'-Tongue?"
"Meat have we there, and
drink and fire,
Nor lack all things that we desire.
But by the other
Whitewater
Of Hallgerd many a tale we hear."
"Tales enow may
my daughter make
If too many words be said for her sake."
"What
saith thine heart to a word of mine,
That I deem thy daughter fair and
fine?
Fair and fine for a bride is she,
And I fain would have her
home with me."
"Full many a word that at noon goes forth
Comes
home at even little worth.
Now winter treadeth on autumn-tide,
So
here till the spring shalt thou abide.
Then if thy mind be changed no
whit,
And ye still will wed, see ye to it!
And on the first of summer
days,
A wedded man, ye may go your ways.
Yet look, howso the
thing will fall,
My hand shall meddle nought at all.
Lo, now the
night and rain draweth up,
And within doors glimmer stoop and cup.

And hark, a little sound I know,
The laugh of Snaebiorn's
fiddle-bow,
My sister's son, and a craftsman good,
When the red
rain drives through the iron wood."
Hallbiorn laughed, and followed
in,
And a merry feast there did begin.
Hallgerd's hands undid his
weed,
Hallgerd's hands poured out the mead.
Her fingers at his
breast he felt,
As her hair fell down about his belt.

Her fingers with
the cup he took,
And o'er its rim at her did look.
Cold cup, warm
hand, and fingers slim,
Before his eyes were waxen dim.
And if the
feast were foul or fair,
He knew not, save that she was there.
He
knew not if men laughed or wept,
While still 'twixt wall and dais she
stept.
Whether she went or stood that eve,
Not