

Transcribed from the 1896 Longmans, Green and Co. edition by David Price,
email ccx074@pglaf.org





POEMS BY THE WAYS
WRITTEN BY WILLIAM
MORRIS


SECOND EDITION

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY
MDCCCXCI

_This Edition first printed December_ 1891

_Reprinted April_ 1892, _and the publication_
_transferred to Longmans_, _Green and Co_.
_in June_ 1896

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 <DW72> 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 LAND-
SETTLING 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