large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_08_chesterton_64kb_7
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_08_chesterton_64kb
English
5754
And even as he said it A post ran in amain, Crying: "Arm, Lord King, the hamlets arm, In the horror and the shade of harm, They have burnt Brand of Aynger's farm   The Danes are come again! AND EVEN AS HE SAID IT A POST RAN IN AMAIN CRYING ARM LORD KING THE HAMLET'S ARM IN THE HORROR AND THE SHADE OF HARM THEY HAVE BURNT BRAND OF ANGER'S FARM THE DANES ARE COME AGAIN
nt had stood in it; Where flowers are flowers indeed and fit, And trees are trees at last. "So were the island of a saint; But I am a common king, And I will make my fences tough From Wantage Town to Plymouth Bluff, Because I am not wise enough To rule so small a thing." And it fell in the days of Alfred, In the days of his repose, That as old customs in his sight Were a straight road and a steady light, He bade them keep the White Horse white As the first plume of the snows. And right to the red torchlight, From the trouble of morning grey, They stripped the White Horse of the grass As they strip it to this day. And under the red torchlight He went dreaming as though dull, Of his old companions slain like kings, And the rich irrevocable things Of a heart that hath not openings, But is shut fast, being full. And the torchlight touched the pale hair Where silver clouded gold, And the frame of his face was made of cords, And a young lord turned among the lords And said: "The King is old. RNESS LIT BECAUSE A SAINT HAD STOOD IN IT WHERE FLOWERS ARE FLOWERS INDEED AND FIT AND TREES ARE TREES AT LAST SO WERE THE ISLAND OF THE SAINT BUT I AM A COMMON KING AND I WILL MAKE MY FENCES TOUGH FROM WANTAGE TOWN TO PLYMOUTH BLUFF BECAUSE I AM NOT WISE ENOUGH TO RULE SO SMALL A THING AND IT FELL IN THE DAYS OF ALFRED IN THE DAYS OF HIS REPOSE THAT HIS OLD CUSTOMS IN HIS SIGHT WERE A STRAIGHT ROAD AND A STEADY LIGHT HE BADE THEM KEEP THE WHITE HORSE WHITE AS THE FIRST PLUME OF THE SNOWS AND RIGHT TO THE RED TORCHLIGHT FROM THE TROUBLE OF MORNING GREY THEY STRIPPED THE WHITE HORSE OF THE GRASS AS THEY STRIP IT TO THIS DAY AND UNDER THE RED TORCHLIGHT HE WENT DREAMING AS THOUGH DULL OF HIS OLD COMPANION SLAIN LIKE KINGS AND THE RICH IRREVOCABLE THINGS OF A HEART THAT HATH NOT OPENINGS BUT IS SHEPH FAST BEING FULL AND THE TORCHLIGHT TOUCHED THE PALE HAIR WHERE SILVER CLOUDED GOLD AND THE FRAME OF HIS FACE WAS MADE OF CORDS AND A YOUNG LORD TURNED AMONG THE LORDS AND SAID THE KING IS OLD
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_08_chesterton_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_08_chesterton_64kb.flac