{"id":251131,"date":"2025-12-30T05:16:13","date_gmt":"2025-12-30T03:16:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.filastrocche.it\/contenuti\/?p=251131"},"modified":"2025-08-11T16:32:05","modified_gmt":"2025-08-11T14:32:05","slug":"spell-bound","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.filastrocche.it\/contenuti\/spell-bound\/","title":{"rendered":"Spell Bound"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.filastrocche.it\/contenuti\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/spell-bound.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"527\" height=\"779\" class=\"aligncenter wp-image-251132 size-full\" title=\"Spell Bound\" src=\"https:\/\/www.filastrocche.it\/contenuti\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/spell-bound.jpg\" alt=\"Spell Bound\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.filastrocche.it\/contenuti\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/spell-bound.jpg 527w, https:\/\/www.filastrocche.it\/contenuti\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/spell-bound-203x300.jpg 203w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 527px) 100vw, 527px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<h2>Let&#8217;s read together: <strong>Spell Bound<\/strong> by William Morris<\/h2>\n<p>How weary is it none can tell,<br \/>\nHow dismally the days go by!<br \/>\nI hear the tinkling of the bell,<br \/>\nI see the cross against the sky.<\/p>\n<p>The year wears round to autumn-tide,<br \/>\nYet comes no reaper to the corn;<br \/>\nThe golden land is like a bride<br \/>\nWhen first she knows herself forlorn.<\/p>\n<p>She sits and weeps with all her hair<br \/>\nLaid downward over tender hands;<br \/>\nFor stained silk she hath no care,<br \/>\nNo care for broken ivory wands;<\/p>\n<p>The silver cups beside her stand;<br \/>\nThe golden stars on the blue roof<br \/>\nYet glitter, though against her hand<br \/>\nHis cold sword presses for a proof<\/p>\n<p>He is not dead, but gone away.<br \/>\nHow many hours did she wait<br \/>\nFor me, I wonder? Till the day<br \/>\nHad faded wholly, and the gate.<\/p>\n<p>Clanged to behind returning knights?<br \/>\nI wonder did she raise her head<br \/>\nAnd go away, fleeing the lights;<br \/>\nAnd lay the samite on her bed,<\/p>\n<p>The wedding samite strewn with pearls:<br \/>\nThen sit with hands laid on her knees,<br \/>\nShuddering at half-heard sound of girls<br \/>\nThat chatter outside in the breeze?<\/p>\n<p>I wonder did her poor heart throb<br \/>\nAt distant tramp of coming knight?<br \/>\nHow often did the choking sob<br \/>\nRaise up her head and lips? The light,<\/p>\n<p>Did it come on her unawares,<br \/>\nAnd drag her sternly down before<br \/>\nPeople who loved her not? in prayers<br \/>\nDid she say one name and no more?<\/p>\n<p>And once\u2014all songs they ever sung,<br \/>\nAll tales they ever told to me,<br \/>\nThis only burden through them rung:<br \/>\nOh! golden love that waitest me,<\/p>\n<p>The days pass on, pass on a pace,<br \/>\nSometimes I have a little rest<br \/>\nIn fairest dreams, when on thy face<br \/>\nMy lips lie, or thy hands are prest<\/p>\n<p>About my forehead, and thy lips<br \/>\nDraw near and nearer to mine own;<br \/>\nBut when the vision from me slips,<br \/>\nIn colourless dawn I lie and moan,<\/p>\n<p>And wander forth with fever&#8217;d blood,<br \/>\nThat makes me start at little things,<br \/>\nThe blackbird screaming from the wood,<br \/>\nThe sudden whirr of pheasants&#8217; wings.<\/p>\n<p>Oh! dearest, scarcely seen by me\u2014<br \/>\nBut when that wild time had gone by,<br \/>\nAnd in these arms I folded thee,<br \/>\nWho ever thought those days could die?<\/p>\n<p>Yet now I wait, and you wait too,<br \/>\nFor what perchance may never come;<br \/>\nYou think I have forgotten you,<br \/>\nThat I grew tired and went home.<\/p>\n<p>But what if some day as I stood<br \/>\nAgainst the wall with strained hands,<br \/>\nAnd turn&#8217;d my face toward the wood,<br \/>\nAway from all the golden lands;<\/p>\n<p>And saw you come with tired feet,<br \/>\nAnd pale face thin and wan with care,<br \/>\nAnd stained raiment no more neat,<br \/>\nThe white dust lying on your hair:\u2014<\/p>\n<p>Then I should say, I could not come;<br \/>\nThis land was my wide prison, dear;<br \/>\nI could not choose but go; at home<br \/>\nThere is a wizard whom I fear:<\/p>\n<p>He bound me round with silken chains<br \/>\nI could not break; he set me here<br \/>\nAbove the golden-waving plains,<br \/>\nWhere never reaper cometh near.<\/p>\n<p>And you have brought me my good sword,<br \/>\nWherewith in happy days of old<br \/>\nI won you well from knight and lord;<br \/>\nMy heart upswells and I grow bold.<\/p>\n<p>But I shall die unless you stand,<br \/>\n(Half lying now, you are so weak,)<br \/>\nWithin my arms, unless your hand<br \/>\nPass to and fro across my cheek.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Let&#8217;s read together: Spell Bound by William Morris How weary is it none can tell, How dismally the days go by! I hear the tinkling of the bell, I see the cross against the sky. The year wears round to autumn-tide, Yet comes no reaper to the corn; The golden land is like a bride [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":251132,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9,51],"tags":[187,8826],"sponsors":[],"class_list":["post-251131","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poesie","category-poesie-dautore","tag-poesia","tag-william-morris","lingua-inglese","scopo-intrattenimento"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v26.2 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Spell Bound - Filastrocche.it<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Text of the poem entitled: Spell Bound by William Morris. 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