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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538874" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Folk-Mote By The River</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was up in the morn we rose betimes<br>From the hall-floor hard by the row of limes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was but John the Red and I,<br>And we were the brethren of Gregory;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Gregory the Wright was one<br>Of the valiant men beneath the sun,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And what he bade us that we did<br>For ne’er he kept his counsel hid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So out we went, and the clattering latch<br>Woke up the swallows under the thatch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was dark in the porch, but our scythes we felt,<br>And thrust the whetstone under the belt.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through the cold garden boughs we went<br>Where the tumbling roses shed their scent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then out a-gates and away we strode<br>O’er the dewy straws on the dusty road,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there was the mead by the town-reeve’s close<br>Where the hedge was sweet with the wilding rose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then into the mowing grass we went<br>Ere the very last of the night was spent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Young was the moon, and he was gone,<br>So we whet our scythes by the stars alone:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But or ever the long blades felt the hay<br>Afar in the East the dawn was grey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or ever we struck our earliest stroke<br>The thrush in the hawthorn-bush awoke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While yet the bloom of the swathe was dim<br>The black-bird’s bill had answered him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ere half of the road to the river was shorn<br>The sunbeam smote the twisted thorn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now wide was the way ’twixt the standing grass<br>For the townsfolk unto the mote to pass,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so when all our work was done<br>We sat to breakfast in the sun,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While down in the stream the dragon-fly<br>’Twixt the quivering rushes flickered by;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And though our knives shone sharp and white<br>The swift bleak heeded not the sight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So when the bread was done away<br>We looked along the new-shorn hay,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And heard the voice of the gathering-horn<br>Come over the garden and the corn;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the wind was in the blossoming wheat<br>And drave the bees in the lime-boughs sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then loud was the horn’s voice drawing near,<br>And it hid the talk of the prattling weir.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now was the horn on the pathway wide<br>That we had shorn to the river-side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So up we stood, and wide around<br>We sheared a space by the Elders’ Mound;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And at the feet thereof it was<br>That highest grew the June-tide grass;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And over all the mound it grew<br>With clover blent, and dark of hue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But never aught of the Elders’ Hay<br>To rick or barn was borne away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But it was bound and burned to ash<br>In the barren close by the reedy plash.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For ’neath that mound the valiant dead<br>Lay hearkening words of valiance said</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When wise men stood on the Elders’ Mound,<br>And the swords were shining bright around.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now we saw the banners borne<br>On the first of the way that we had shorn;<br>So we laid the scythe upon the sward<br>And girt us to the battle-sword.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For after the banners well we knew<br>Were the Freemen wending two and two.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There then that high-way of the scythe<br>With many a hue was brave and blythe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And first below the Silver Chief<br>Upon the green was the golden sheaf.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And on the next that went by it<br>The White Hart in the Park did sit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then on the red the White Wings flew,<br>And on the White was the Cloud-fleck blue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Last went the Anchor of the Wrights<br>Beside the Ship of the Faring-Knights.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then thronged the folk the June-tide field<br>With naked sword and painted shield,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till they came adown to the river-side,<br>And there by the mound did they abide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now when the swords stood thick and white<br>As the mace reeds stand in the streamless bight,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There rose a man on the mound alone<br>And over his head was the grey mail done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When over the new-shorn place of the field<br>Was nought but the steel hood and the shield.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The face on the mound shone ruddy and hale,<br>But the hoar hair showed from the hoary mail.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there rose a hand by the ruddy face<br>And shook a sword o’er the peopled place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there came a voice from the mound and said:<br>“O sons, the days of my youth are dead,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And gone are the faces I have known<br>In the street and the booths of the goodly town.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O sons, full many a flock have I seen<br>Feed down this water-girdled green.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Full many a herd of long-horned neat<br>Have I seen ’twixt water-side and wheat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here by this water-side full oft<br>Have I heaved the flowery hay aloft.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And oft this water-side anigh<br>Have I bowed adown the wheat-stalks high.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet meseems I live and learn<br>And lore of younglings yet must earn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For tell me, children, whose are these<br>Fair meadows of the June’s increase.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whose are these flocks and whose the neat,<br>And whose the acres of the wheat?”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Scarce did we hear his latest word,<br>On the wide shield so rang the sword.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So rang the sword upon the shield<br>That the lark was hushed above the field.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then sank the shouts and again we heard<br>The old voice come from the hoary beard:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Yea, whose are yonder gables then,<br>And whose the holy hearths of men?<br>Whose are the prattling children there,<br>And whose the sunburnt maids and fair?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whose thralls are ye, hereby that stand,<br>Bearing the freeman’s sword in hand?”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As glitters the sun in the rain-washed grass,<br>So in the tossing swords it was;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As the thunder rattles along and adown<br>E’en so was the voice of the weaponed town.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there was the steel of the old man’s sword,<br>And there was his hollow voice, and his word:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Many men many minds, the old saw saith,<br>Though hereof ye be sure as death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For what spake the herald yestermorn<br>But this, that ye were thrall-folk born;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That the lord that owneth all and some<br>Would send his men to fetch us home</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Betwixt the haysel, and the tide<br>When they shear the corn in the country-side?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O children, Who was the lord? ye say,<br>What prayer to him did our fathers pray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Did they hold out hands his gyves to bear?<br>Did their knees his high hall’s pavement wear?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is his house built up in heaven aloft?<br>Doth he make the sun rise oft and oft?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Doth he hold the rain in his hollow hand?<br>Hath he cleft this water through the land?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or doth he stay the summer-tide,<br>And make the winter days abide?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O children, Who is the lord? ye say,<br>Have we heard his name before to-day?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O children, if his name I know,<br>He hight Earl Hugh of the Shivering Low:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For that herald bore on back and breast<br>The Black Burg under the Eagle’s Nest.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As the voice of the winter wind that tears<br>At the eaves of the thatch and its emptied ears,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">E’en so was the voice of laughter and scorn<br>By the water-side in the mead new-shorn;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And over the garden and the wheat<br>Went the voice of women shrilly-sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now by the hoary elder stood<br>A carle in raiment red as blood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Red was his weed and his glaive was white,<br>And there stood Gregory the Wright.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So he spake in a voice was loud and strong:<br>“Young is the day though the road is long;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is time if we tarry nought at all<br>For the kiss in the porch and the meat in the hall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And safe shall our maidens sit at home<br>For the foe by the way we wend must come.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through the three Lavers shall we go<br>And raise them all against the foe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then shall we wend the Downland ways,<br>And all the shepherd spearmen raise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To Cheaping Raynes shall we come adown<br>And gather the bowmen of the town;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Greenstead next we come unto<br>Wherein are all folk good and true.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When we come our ways to the Outer Wood<br>We shall be an host both great and good;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea when we come to the open field<br>There shall be a many under shield.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And maybe Earl Hugh shall lie alow<br>And yet to the house of Heaven shall go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But we shall dwell in the land we love<br>And grudge no hallow Heaven above.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come ye, who think the time o’er long<br>Till we have slain the word of wrong!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come ye who deem the life of fear<br>On this last day hath drawn o’er near!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come after me upon the road<br>That leadeth to the Erne’s abode.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Down then he leapt from off the mound<br>And back drew they that were around</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till he was foremost of all those<br>Betwixt the river and the close.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And uprose shouts both glad and strong<br>As followed after all the throng;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And overhead the banners flapped,<br>As we went on our ways to all that happed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fields before the Shivering Low<br>Of many a grief of manfolk know;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There may the autumn acres tell<br>Of how men met, and what befell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Black Burg under the Eagle’s nest<br>Shall tell the tale as it liketh best.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And sooth it is that the River-land<br>Lacks many an autumn-gathering hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there are troth-plight maids unwed<br>Shall deem awhile that love is dead;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And babes there are to men shall grow<br>Nor ever the face of their fathers know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet in the Land by the River-side<br>Doth never a thrall or an earl’s man bide;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For Hugh the Earl of might and mirth<br>Hath left the merry days of Earth;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And we live on in the land we love,<br>And grudge no hallow Heaven above.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Morris">William Morris</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538874" data-title="The Folk-Mote By The River de William Morris" data-description="It was up in the morn we rose betimes
From the hall-floor hard by the row of limes.

It was but John the Red and I,
And we were the brethren of Gregory;

And Gregory the Wright was one
Of the valiant men beneath the sun,

And what he bade us that ..."></div>
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