large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb_32
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb
English
5754
"For this is a heavy matter, And the truth is cold to tell; Do we not know, have we not heard, The soul is like a lost bird, The body a broken shell. FOR THIS IS A HEAVY MATTER AND THE TRUTH IS COLD TO TELL DO WE NOT KNOW HAVE WE NOT HEARD THE SOUL IS LIKE A LOST BIRD THE BODY A BROKEN SHELL
 voice, and find Foam in the courts of heaven. "And you that sit by the fire are young, And true love waits for you; But the king and I grow old, grow old, And hate alone is true." And Guthrum shook his head but smiled, For he was a mighty clerk, And had read lines in the Latin books When all the north was dark. He said, "I am older than you, Ogier; Not all things would I rend, For whether life be bad or good It is best to abide the end." He took the great harp wearily, Even Guthrum of the Danes, With wide eyes bright as the one long day On the long polar plains. For he sang of a wheel returning, And the mire trod back to mire, And how red hells and golden heavens Are castles in the fire. "It is good to sit where the good tales go, To sit as our fathers sat; But the hour shall come after his youth, When a man shall know not tales but truth, And his heart fail thereat. "When he shall read what is written So plain in clouds and clods, When he shall hunger without hope Even for evil gods.  BEHIND SHALL HEAR AN AWFUL VOICE AND FIND FOAM IN ALL THE COURTS OF HEAVEN AND YOU THAT SIT BY THE FIRE ARE YOUNG AND TRUE LOVE WAITS FOR YOU BUT THE KING AND I GROW OLD GROW OLD AND HATE ALONE IS TRUE AND GERTRUM SHOOK HIS HEAD BUT SMILED FOR HE WAS A MIGHTY CLERK AND HAD READ LINES IN THE LATIN BOOKS WHEN ALL THE NORTH WAS DARK HE SAID I AM OLDER THAN YOU ARGYA NOT ALL THINGS WOULD I REND FOR WHETHER LIFE BE BAD OR GOOD IT IS BEST TO ABIDE THE END HE TOOK THE GREAT HARP WEARILY EVEN GUTHRUM OF THE DANES WITH WIDE EYES BRIGHT AS THE ONE LONG DAY ON THE LONG POLAR PLAINS FOR HE SANG OF A WHEEL RETURNING AND THE MIRE TROD BACK TO MIRE AND HOW RED HELLS AND GOLDEN HEAVENS ARE CASTLES IN THE FIRE IT IS GOOD TO SIT WHERE THE GOOD TALES GO TO SIT AS OUR FATHER SAT BUT THE HOUR SHALL COME AFTER HIS YOUTH WHEN A MAN SHALL NOT KNOW TALES BUT TRUTH AND HIS HEART FAIL THEREAT WHEN HE SHALL READ WHAT IS WRITTEN SO PLAIN IN THE CLOUDS AND CLODS WHEN HE SHALL HUNGER WITHOUT HOPE EVEN FOR EVIL GODS
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb.flac