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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538878" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Hall And The Wood</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">’Twas in the water-dwindling tide<br>When July days were done,<br>Sir Rafe of Greenhowes, ’gan to ride<br>In the earliest of the sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He left the white-walled burg behind,<br>He rode amidst the wheat.<br>The westland-gotten wind blew kind<br>Across the acres sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then rose his heart and cleared his brow,<br>And slow he rode the way:<br>“As then it was, so is it now,<br>Not all hath worn away.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So came he to the long green lane<br>That leadeth to the ford,<br>And saw the sickle by the wain<br>Shine bright as any sword.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The brown carles stayed ’twixt draught and draught,<br>And murmuring, stood aloof,<br>But one spake out when he had laughed:<br>“God bless the Green-wood Roof!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then o’er the ford and up he fared:<br>And lo the happy hills!<br>And the mountain-dale by summer cleared,<br>That oft the winter fills.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then forth he rode by Peter’s gate,<br>And smiled and said aloud:<br>“No more a day doth the Prior wait,<br>White stands the tower and proud.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There leaned a knight on the gateway side<br>In armour white and wan,<br>And after the heels of the horse he cried,<br>“God keep the hunted man!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then quoth Sir Rafe, “Amen, amen!”<br>For he deemed the word was good;<br>But never a while he lingered then<br>Till he reached the Nether Wood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He rode by ash, he rode by oak,<br>He rode the thicket round,<br>And heard no woodman strike a stroke,<br>No wandering wife he found.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He rode the wet, he rode the dry,<br>He rode the grassy glade:<br>At Wood-end yet the sun was high,<br>And his heart was unafraid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There on the bent his rein he drew,<br>And looked o’er field and fold,<br>O’er all the merry meads he knew<br>Beneath the mountains old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He gazed across to the good Green Howe<br>As he smelt the sun-warmed sward;<br>Then his face grew pale from chin to brow,<br>And he cried, “God save the sword!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For there beyond the winding way,<br>Above the orchards green,<br>Stood up the ancient gables gray<br>With ne’er a roof between.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His naked blade in hand he had,<br>O’er rough and smooth he rode,<br>Till he stood where once his heart was glad<br>Amidst his old abode.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Across the hearth a tie-beam lay<br>Unmoved a weary while.<br>The flame that clomb the ashlar gray<br>Had burned it red as tile.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sparrows bickering on the floor<br>Fled at his entering in;<br>The swift flew past the empty door<br>His winged meat to win.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Red apples from the tall old tree<br>O’er the wall’s rent were shed.<br>Thence oft, a little lad, would he<br>Look down upon the lead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There turned the cheeping chaffinch now<br>And feared no birding child;<br>Through the shot-window thrust a bough<br>Of garden-rose run wild.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He looked to right, he looked to left,<br>And down to the cold gray hearth,<br>Where lay an axe with half burned heft<br>Amidst the ashen dearth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He caught it up and cast it wide<br>Against the gable wall;<br>Then to the dais did he stride,<br>O’er beam and bench and all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Amidst there yet the high-seat stood,<br>Where erst his sires had sat;<br>And the mighty board of oaken wood,<br>The fire had stayed thereat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then through the red wrath of his eyne<br>He saw a sheathed sword,<br>Laid thwart that wasted field of wine,<br>Amidmost of the board.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And by the hilts a slug-horn lay,<br>And therebeside a scroll,<br>He caught it up and turned away<br>From the lea-land of the bowl.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then with the sobbing grief he strove,<br>For he saw his name thereon;<br>And the heart within his breast uphove<br>As the pen’s tale now he won.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“O Rafe, my love of long ago!<br>Draw forth thy father’s blade,<br>And blow the horn for friend and foe,<br>And the good green-wood to aid!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He turned and took the slug-horn up,<br>And set it to his mouth,<br>And o’er that meadow of the cup<br>Blew east and west and south.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He drew the sword from out the sheath<br>And shook the fallow brand;<br>And there a while with bated breath,<br>And hearkening ear did stand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Him-seemed the horn’s voice he might hear —<br>Or the wind that blew o’er all.<br>Him-seemed that footsteps drew anear —<br>Or the boughs shook round the hall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Him-seemed he heard a voice he knew —<br>Or a dream of while agone.<br>Him-seemed bright raiment towards him drew —<br>Or bright the sun-set shone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She stood before him face to face,<br>With the sun-beam thwart her hand,<br>As on the gold of the Holy Place<br>The painted angels stand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With many a kiss she closed his eyes;<br>She kissed him cheek and chin:<br>E’en so in the painted Paradise<br>Are Earth’s folk welcomed in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There in the door the green-coats stood,<br>O’er the bows went up the cry,<br>“O welcome, Rafe, to the free green-wood,<br>With us to live and die.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was bill and bow by the high-seat stood,<br>And they cried above the bows,<br>“Now welcome, Rafe, to the good green-wood,<br>And welcome Kate the Rose!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">White, white in the moon is the woodland plash,<br>White is the woodland glade,<br>Forth wend those twain, from oak to ash,<br>With light hearts unafraid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The summer moon high o’er the hill,<br>All silver-white is she,<br>And Sir Rafe’s good men with bow and bill,<br>They go by two and three.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the fair green-wood where lurks no fear,<br>Where the King’s writ runneth not,<br>There dwell they, friends and fellows dear,<br>While summer days are hot,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when the leaf from the oak-tree falls,<br>And winds blow rough and strong,<br>With the carles of the woodland thorps and halls<br>They dwell, and fear no wrong.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there the merry yule they make,<br>And see the winter wane,<br>And fain are they for true-love’s sake,<br>And the folk thereby are fain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the ploughing carle and the straying herd<br>Flee never for Sir Rafe:<br>No barefoot maiden wends afeard,<br>And she deems the thicket safe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But sore adread do the chapmen ride;<br>Wide round the wood they go;<br>And the judge and the sergeants wander wide,<br>Lest they plead before the bow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well learned and wise is Sir Rafe’s good sword,<br>And straight the arrows fly,<br>And they find the coat of many a lord,<br>And the crest that rideth high.</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=538878" data-title="The Hall And The Wood de William Morris" data-description="’Twas in the water-dwindling tide
When July days were done,
Sir Rafe of Greenhowes, ’gan to ride
In the earliest of the sun.

He left the white-walled burg behind,
He rode amidst the wheat.
The westland-gotten wind blew kind
Across the acres s..."></div>
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