large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_01_chesterton_64kb_23
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_01_chesterton_64kb
English
5754
One dim ancestral jewel hung On his ruined armour grey, He rent and cast it at her feet: Where, after centuries, with slow feet, Men came from hall and school and street And found it where it lay. ONE DIM ANCESTRAL JEWEL HUNG ON HIS RUINED ARMOR GRAY HE RENT AND CAST IT AT HER FEET WHERE AFTER CENTURIES WITH SLOW FEET MEN CAME FROM HALL AT GHOUL AND STREET AND FOUND IT WHERE IT LAY
ture, Tiny and far away, His mother sitting in Egbert's hall, And a book she showed him, very small, Where a sapphire Mary sat in stall With a golden Christ at play. It was wrought in the monk's slow manner, From silver and sanguine shell, Where the scenes are little and terrible, Keyholes of heaven and hell. In the river island of Athelney, With the river running past, In colours of such simple creed All things sprang at him, sun and weed, Till the grass grew to be grass indeed And the tree was a tree at last. Fearfully plain the flowers grew, Like the child's book to read, Or like a friend's face seen in a glass; He looked; and there Our Lady was, She stood and stroked the tall live grass As a man strokes his steed. Her face was like an open word When brave men speak and choose, The very colours of her coat Were better than good news. She spoke not, nor turned not, Nor any sign she cast, Only she stood up straight and free, Between the flowers in Athelney, And the river running past. THE SEA AND HE SAW IN A LITTLE PICTURE TINY AND FAR AWAY HIS MOTHER SITTING IN EGBERT'S HALL AND A BOOK SHE SHOWED HIM VERY SMALL WHERE SAPPHIRE MARY SAT IN STALL WAS A GOLDEN CHRIST AT PLAY IT WAS WROUGHT IN THE MONK'S SLOW MANNER FROM SILVER AND SANGUINE SHELL WHERE THE SCENES ARE LITTLE AND TERRIBLE KEYHOLES OF HEAVEN AND HELL IN THE RIVER ISLAND OF ADULNAE WITH THE RIVER RUNNING PAST IN COLOURS OF SUCH SIMPLE CREED ALL THINGS SPRANG AT HIM SUN AND WEED TILL THE GRASS GREW TO BE GRASS INDEED AND THE TREE WAS A TREE AT LAST FEARFULLY PLAIN THE FLOWERS GREW LIKE THE CHILD'S BOOK TO READ OR LIKE A FRIEND'S FACE SEEN IN A GLASS HE LOOKED AND THERE OUR LADY WAS SHE STOOD AND STROKED THE TALL LIVE GRASS AS A MAN STROKES HIS STEED HER FACE WAS LIKE AN OPEN WORD WHEN BRAVE MEN SPEAK AND CHOOSE THE VERY COLOURS OF HER COAT WERE BETTER THAN GOOD NEWS SHE SPOKE NOT NOR TURNED NOT NOR ANY SIGN SHE CAST ONLY SHE STOOD UP STRAIGHT AND FREE BETWEEN THE FLOWERS IN ATOLNAE AND THE RIVER RUNNING PAST
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_01_chesterton_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_01_chesterton_64kb.flac