large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_01_chesterton_64kb_1
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_01_chesterton_64kb
English
5754
"The gates of heaven are lightly locked, We do not guard our gain, The heaviest hind may easily Come silently and suddenly Upon me in a lane. THE GATES OF HEAVEN ARE LIGHTLY LOCKED WE DO NOT GUARD OUR GAIN THE HEAVIEST HIND MAY EASILY COME SILENTLY AND SUDDENLY UPON ME IN A LANE
ned 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?" 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. 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 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
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