Poems By the Way

Transcribed from the 1896 Longmans, Green and Co. edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
second edition
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY MDCCCXCI
This Edition first printed December 1891
Reprinted April 1892, and the publication transferred to Longmans , Green and Co . in June 1896
Contents.
From the Upland to the Sea Of the Wooing of Hallbiorn the Strong Echoes of Love’s House The Burghers’ Battle Hope Deith: Love Liveth Error and Loss The Hall and the Wood The Day of Days To the Muse of the North Of the Three Seekers Love’s Gleaning-Tide The Message of the March Wind A Death Song Iceland First Seen The Raven and the King’s Daughter Spring’s Bedfellow Meeting in Winter The Two Sides of the River Love Fulfilled The King of Denmark’s Sons On the Edge of the Wilderness A Garden by the Sea Mother and Son Thunder in the Garden The God of the Poor Love’s Reward The Folk-Mote by the River The Voice of Toil Gunnar’s Howe above the House at Lithend The Day is Coming Earth the Healer, Earth the Keeper All for the Cause Pain and Time Strive Not Drawing near the Light Verses for Pictures For the Briar-Rose Another for the Briar-Rose The Woodpecker The Lion The Forest Pomona Flora The Orchard Tapestry Trees The Flowering Orchard The End of May The Half of Life Gone Mine and Thine The Lay of Christine Hildebrand and Hellelil The Son’s Sorrow Agnes and the Hill-Man Knight Aagen and Maiden Else Hafbur and Signy Goldilocks and Goldilocks
Shall we wake one morn of spring, Glad at heart of everything, Yet pensive with the thought of eve? Then the white house shall we leave, Pass the wind-flowers and the bays, Through the garth, and go our ways, Wandering down among the meads Till our very joyance needs Rest at last; till we shall come To that Sun-god’s lonely home, Lonely on the hill-side grey, Whence the sheep have gone away; Lonely till the feast-time is, When with prayer and praise of bliss, Thither comes the country side. There awhile shall we abide, Sitting low down in the porch By that image with the torch: Thy one white hand laid upon The black pillar that was won From the far-off Indian mine; And my hand nigh touching thine, But not touching; and thy gown Fair with spring-flowers cast adown From thy bosom and thy brow. There the south-west wind shall blow Through thine hair to reach my cheek, As thou sittest, nor mayst speak, Nor mayst move the hand I kiss For the very depth of bliss; Nay, nor turn thine eyes to me. Then desire of the great sea Nigh enow, but all unheard, In the hearts of us is stirred, And we rise, we twain at last, And the daffodils downcast, Feel thy feet and we are gone From the lonely Sun-Crowned one. Then the meads fade at our back, And the spring day ’gins to lack That fresh hope that once it had; But we twain grow yet more glad, And apart no more may go When the grassy slope and low Dieth in the shingly sand: Then we wander hand in hand By the edges of the sea, And I weary more for thee Than if far apart we were, With a space of desert drear ’Twixt thy lips and mine, O love! Ah, my joy, my joy thereof!