{"id":250227,"date":"2025-05-20T05:02:47","date_gmt":"2025-05-20T03:02:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.filastrocche.it\/contenuti\/?p=250227"},"modified":"2025-04-16T10:03:23","modified_gmt":"2025-04-16T08:03:23","slug":"golden-wings","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.filastrocche.it\/contenuti\/golden-wings\/","title":{"rendered":"Golden Wings"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Golden<\/a><\/p>\n

Let’s read together: Golden Wings<\/strong> by William Morris<\/h2>\n

Midways of a walled garden,
\nIn the happy poplar land,
\nDid an ancient castle stand,
\nWith an old knight for a warden.<\/p>\n

Many scarlet bricks there were
\nIn its walls, and old grey stone;
\nOver which red apples shone
\nAt the right time of the year.<\/p>\n

On the bricks the green moss grew,
\nYellow lichen on the stone,
\nOver which red apples shone;
\nLittle war that castle knew.<\/p>\n

Deep green water fili’d the moat,
\nEach side had a red-brick lip,
\nGreen and mossy with the drip
\nOf dew and rain; there was a boat<\/p>\n

Of carven wood, with hangings green
\nAbout the stern; it was great bliss
\nFor lovers to sit there and kiss
\nI In the hot summer noons, not seen.<\/p>\n

Across the moat the fresh west wind
\nIn very little ripples went;
\nThe way the heavy aspens bent
\nTowards it, was a thing to mind.<\/p>\n

The painted drawbridge over it
\nWent up and down with gilded chains,
\n‘Twas pleasant in the summer rains
\nWithin the bridge-house there to sit.<\/p>\n

There were five swans that ne’er did eat
\nThe water-weeds, for ladies came
\nEach day, and young knights did the same,
\nAnd gave them cakes and bread for meat.<\/p>\n

They had a house of painted wood,
\nA red roof gold-spiked over it,
\nWherein upon their eggs to sit
\nWeek after week; no drop of blood,<\/p>\n

Drawn from men’s bodies by sword-blows,
\nCame ever there, or any tear;
\nMost certainly from year to year
\n‘Twas pleasant’ as a Provence rose.<\/p>\n

The banners seem’d quite full of ease,
\nThat over the turret-roofs hung down;
\nThe battlements could get no frown
\nfrom the flower-moulded cornices.<\/p>\n

Who walked in that garden there?
\nMiles and Giles and Isabeau,
\nTall Jehane du Castel beau,
\nAlice of the golden hair,<\/p>\n

Big Sir Gervaise, the good knight,
\nFair Ellayne le Violet,
\nMary, Constance fille de fay,
\nMany dames with footfall light.<\/p>\n

Whosoever wander’d there,
\nWhether it be dame or knight,
\nHalf of scarlet, half of white
\nTheir raiment was; of roses fair<\/p>\n

Each wore a garland on the head,
\nAt Ladies’ Gard the way was so:
\nFair Jehane du Castel beau
\nWore her wreath till it was dead.<\/p>\n

Little joy she had of it,
\nOf the raiment white and red,
\nOr the garland on her head,
\nShe had none with whom to sit<\/p>\n

In the carven boat at noon;
\nNone the more did Jehane weep,
\nShe would only stand and keep
\nSaying, ‘He will be here soon.’<\/p>\n

Many times in the long day
\nMiles and Giles and Gervaise past,
\nHolding each some white hand fast,
\nEvery time they heard her say:<\/p>\n

‘Summer cometh to an end,
\nUndern cometh after noon;
\nGolden wings will be here soon,
\nWhat if I some token send ? ‘<\/p>\n

Wherefore that night within the hall,
\nWith open mouth and open eyes,
\nLike some one listening with surprise,
\nShe sat before the sight of all.<\/p>\n

Stoop’d down a little she sat there,
\nWith neck stretch’d out and chin thrown up,
\nOne hand around a golden cup;
\nAnd strangely with her fingers fair<\/p>\n

She beat some tune upon the gold;
\nThe minstrels in the gallery
\nSung: ‘Arthur, who will never die,
\nIn Avallon he groweth old.’<\/p>\n

And when the song was ended, she
\nRose and caught up her gown and ran;
\nNone stopp’d her eager face and wan
\nOf all that pleasant company.<\/p>\n

Right so within her own chamber
\nUpon her bed she sat; and drew
\nHer breath in quick gasps; till she knew
\nThat no man follow’d after her:<\/p>\n

She took the garland from her head,
\nLoosed all her hair, and let it lie
\nUpon the coverlit; thereby
\nShe laid the gown of white and red;<\/p>\n

And she took off her scarlet shoon,
\nAnd bared her feet; still more and more
\nHer sweet face redden’d; evermore
\nShe murmur’d: ‘He will be here soon;<\/p>\n

‘Truly he cannot fail to know
\nMy tender body waits him here;
\nAnd if he knows, I have no fear
\nFor poor Jehane du Castel beau.’<\/p>\n

She took a sword within her hand,
\nWhose hilts were silver, and she sung, no
\nSomehow like this, wild words that rung
\nA long way over the moonlit land: \u2014<\/p>\n

Gold wings across the sea!
\nGrey light from tree to tree,
\nGold hair beside my knee,
\nI pray thee come to me,
\nGold wings!<\/p>\n

The water slips,
\nThe red-bili’d moorhen dips.
\nSweet kisses on red lips;
\nAlas! the red rust grips,
\nAnd the blood-red dagger rips,
\nYet, 0 knight, come to me!
\nAre not my blue eyes sweet ?
\nThe west wind from the wheat
\nBlows cold across my feet;
\nIs it not time to meet
\nGold wings across the sea ?<\/p>\n

White swans on the green moat,
\nSmall feathers left afloat
\nBy the blue-painted boat;
\nSwift running of the stoat;
\nSweet gurgling note by note
\nOf sweet music.<\/p>\n

O gold wings,
\nListen how gold hair sings,
\nAnd the Ladies’ Castle rings,
\nGold wings across the sea.<\/p>\n

I sit on a purple bed,
\nOutside, the wall is red,
\nThereby the apple hangs,
\nAnd the wasp, caught by the fangs,<\/p>\n

Dies in the autumn night.
\nAnd the bat flits till light,
\nAnd the love-crazed knight<\/p>\n

Kisses the long wet grass:
\nThe weary days pass, \u2014
\nGold wings across the sea!<\/p>\n

Gold wings across the sea!
\nMoonlight from tree to tree,
\nSweet hair laid on my knee,
\nO, sweet knight, come to me!<\/p>\n

Gold wings, the short night slips,
\nThe white swan’s long neck drips,
\nI pray thee, kiss my lips,
\nGold wings across the sea.<\/p>\n

No answer through the moonlit night;
\nNo answer in the cold grey dawn;
\nNo answer when the shaven lawn
\nGrew green, and all the roses bright.<\/p>\n

Her tired feet look’d cold and thin,
\nHer lips were twitch’d, and wretched tears,
\nSome, as she lay, roll’d past her ears,
\nSome fell from off her quivering chin.<\/p>\n

Her long throat, stretch’d to its full length,
\nRose up and fell right brokenly;
\nAs though the unhappy heart was nigh
\nStriving to break with all its strength.<\/p>\n

And when she slipp’d from off the bed,
\nHer cramp’d feet would not hold her; she
\nSank down and crept on hand and knee,
\nOn the window-sill she laid her head.<\/p>\n

There, with crooked arm upon the sill,
\nShe look’d out, muttering dismally:
\n‘There is no sail upon the sea,
\nNo pennon on the empty hill.<\/p>\n

‘I cannot stay here all alone,
\nOr meet their happy faces here,
\nAnd wretchedly I have no fear;
\nA little while, and I am gone.’<\/p>\n

Therewith she rose upon her feet,
\nAnd totter’d; cold and misery
\nStill made the deep sobs come, till she
\nAt last stretch’d out her fingers sweet,<\/p>\n

And caught the great sword in her hand;
\nAnd, stealing down the silent stair,
\nBarefooted in the morning air,
\nAnd only in her smock, did stand<\/p>\n

Upright upon the green lawn grass;
\nAnd hope grew in her as she said:
\n‘I have thrown off the white and red,
\nAnd pray God it may come to pass.<\/p>\n

‘I meet him; if ten years go by
\nBefore I meet him; if, indeed,
\nMeanwhile both soul and body bleed,
\nYet there is end of misery,<\/p>\n

‘And I have hope. He could not come,
\nBut I can go to him and show
\nThese new things I have got to know,
\nAnd make him speak, who has been dumb.<\/p>\n

O Jehane! the red morning sun
\nChanged her white feet to glowing gold,
\nUpon her smock, on crease and fold,
\nChanged that to gold which had been dun.<\/p>\n

O Miles, and Giles, and Isabeau,
\nFair Ellayne le Violet,
\nMary, Constance fille de fay!
\nWhere is Jehane du Castel beau?<\/p>\n

O big Gervaise ride apace!
\nDown to the hard yellow sand,
\nWhere the water meets the land.
\nThis is Jehane by her face;<\/p>\n

Why has she a broken sword?
\nMary! she is slain outright;
\nVerily a piteous sight;
\nTake her up without a word!<\/p>\n

Giles and Miles and Gervaise there,
\nLadies’ Gard must meet the war;
\nWhatsoever knights these are,
\nMan the walls withouten fear!<\/p>\n

Axes to the apple-trees,
\nAxes to the aspens tall!
\nBarriers without the wall
\nMay be lightly made of these.<\/p>\n

(O poor shivering Isabeau;
\nPoor Ellayne le Violet,
\nBent with fear! we miss to-day
\nBrave Jehane du Castel beau.<\/p>\n

O poor Mary, weeping so!
\nWretched Constance fille de fay!
\nVerily we miss to-day
\nPair Jehane du Castel beau.<\/p>\n

The apples now grow green and sour
\nUpon the mouldering castle-wall,
\nBefore they ripen there they fall:
\nThere are no banners on the tower.<\/p>\n

The draggled swans most eagerly eat
\nThe green weeds trailing in the moat;
\nInside the rotting leaky boat
\nYou see a slain man’s stiffen’d feet.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Let’s read together: Golden Wings by William Morris Midways of a walled garden, In the happy poplar land, Did an ancient castle stand, With an old knight for a warden. Many scarlet bricks there were In its walls, and old grey stone; Over which red apples shone At the right time of the year. On […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":250228,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9,51],"tags":[6995],"occasioni":[],"sponsors":[],"class_list":["post-250227","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poesie","category-poesie-dautore","tag-nursery-rhyme","lingua-inglese","scopo-intrattenimento"],"yoast_head":"\nGolden Wings - Nursery Rhymes on Filastrocche.it<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Text of the nursery rhyme entitled: Golden Wings by William Morris. 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