large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_01_chesterton_64kb_0
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_01_chesterton_64kb
English
5754
And a voice came human but high up, Like a cottage climbed among The clouds; or a serf of hut and croft That sits by his hovel fire as oft, But hears on his old bare roof aloft A belfry burst in song. AND A VOICE CAME HUMAN BUT HIGH UP LIKE A COTTAGE CLIMBED AMONG THE CLOUDS OR A SURF OF HUT AND CROFT THAT SITS BY HIS HOVEL FIRE AS OFT BUT HEARS ON HIS OLD BARE ROOF ALOFT A BELFRY BURST IN SONG
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. 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. "Mother of God," the wanderer said, "I am but a common king, Nor will I ask what saints may ask, To see a secret thing. "The gates of heaven are fearful gates Worse than the gates of hell; Not I would break the splendours barred Or seek to know the thing they guard, Which is too good to tell. "But for this earth most pitiful, This little land I know, If that which is for ever is, Or if our hearts shall break with bliss, Seeing the stranger go? "When our last bow is broken, Queen, And our last javelin cast, Under some sad, green evening sky, Holding a ruined cross on high, Under warm westland grass to lie, Shall we come home at last?  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 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 MOTHER OF GOD THE WANDERER SAID I AM BUT A COMMON KING NOR WILL I ASK WHAT SAINTS MAY ASK TO SEE A SECRET THING THE GATES OF HEAVEN ARE FEARFUL GATES WORSE THAN THE GATES OF HELL NOT I WOULD BREAK THE SPLENDOR'S BARD OR SEEK TO NOTE THE THING THEY GUARD WHICH IS TOO GOOD TO TELL BUT FOR THIS EARTH MOST PITIFUL THIS LITTLE LAND I KNOW IF THAT WHICH IS FOR EVER IS OR IF OUR HEART SHALL BREAK WITH BLISS SEEING THE STRANGER GO WHEN OUR LAST BOW IS BROKEN QUEEN AND OUR LAST JAVELIN CAST UNDER SOME SAD GREEN EVENING SKY HOLDING A RUINED CROSS ON HIGH UNDER WARM WESTLAND GRASS TO LIE SHALL WE COME HOME AT LAST
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_01_chesterton_64kb
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download/librilight/large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_01_chesterton_64kb.flac