large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb_27
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb
English
5754
And slowly his hands and thoughtfully Fell from the lifted lyre, And the owls moaned from the mighty trees Till Alfred caught it to his knees And smote it as in ire. AND SLOWLY HIS HANDS AND THOUGHTFULLY FELL FROM THE LIFTED LYRE AND THE OWLS MOANED FROM THE MIGHTY TREES TILL ALFRED CAUGHT IT IN HIS KNEES AND SMOTE IT AS IN IRO
 in white woods apart He finds at last the lost bird dead: And a man may still lift up his head But never more his heart. "There comes no noise but weeping Out of the ancient sky, And a tear is in the tiniest flower Because the gods must die. "The little brooks are very sweet, Like a girl's ribbons curled, But the great sea is bitter That washes all the world. "Strong are the Roman roses, Or the free flowers of the heath, But every flower, like a flower of the sea, Smelleth with the salt of death. "And the heart of the locked battle Is the happiest place for men; When shrieking souls as shafts go by And many have died and all may die; Though this word be a mystery, Death is most distant then. "Death blazes bright above the cup, And clear above the crown; But in that dream of battle We seem to tread it down. "Wherefore I am a great king, And waste the world in vain, Because man hath not other power, Save that in dealing death for dower, He may forget it for an hour To remember it again. ND A MAN HOPES BEING IGNORANT TILL IN THE WHITE WOODS APART HE FINDS AT LAST THE LOST BIRD DEAD AND A MAN LAY STILL LIFT UP HIS HEAD BUT NEVER MORE HIS HEART THERE COMES NO NOISE BUT WEEPING OUT OF THE ANCIENT SKY AND A TEAR IS IN THE TINIEST FLOWER BECAUSE THE GODS MUST DIE THE LITTLE BROOKS ARE VERY SWEET LIKE A GIRL'S RIBBONS CURLED BUT THE GREAT SEA IS BITTER THAT WASHES ALL THE WORLD STRONG ARE THE ROMAN ROSES OR THE FREE FLOWERS OF THE HEARTH BUT EVERY FLOWER LIKE A FLOWER OF THE SEA SMELETH WITH THE SALT OF DEATH AND THE HEART OF THE LOCKED BATTLE IS THE HAPPIEST PLACE FOR MEN WHEN SHRIEKING SOULS AS SHAFTS GO BY AND MANY HAVE DIED AND ALL MAY DIE THOUGH THIS WORLD BE A MYSTERY DEATH IS MOST DISTANT THEN DEATH BLAZES BRIGHT ABOVE THE CUP AND CLEAR ABOVE THE CROWN BUT IN THAT DREAM OF BATTLE WE SEEM TO TREADOW WHEREFORE I AM A GREAT KING AND WASTE THE WORLD IN VAIN BECAUSE MAN HATH NOT OTHER POWER SAVE THAT IN DEALING DEATH FOR DOWER HE MAY FORGET IT FOR AN HOUR REMEMBER IT AGAIN
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb
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download/librilight/large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb.flac