Analysis of The Hall And The Wood

William Morris 1834 (Walthamstow) – 1896 (London)



’Twas in the water-dwindling tide
When July days were done,
Sir Rafe of Greenhowes, ’gan to ride
In the earliest of the sun.

He left the white-walled burg behind,
He rode amidst the wheat.
The westland-gotten wind blew kind
Across the acres sweet.

Then rose his heart and cleared his brow,
And slow he rode the way:
“As then it was, so is it now,
Not all hath worn away.”

So came he to the long green lane
That leadeth to the ford,
And saw the sickle by the wain
Shine bright as any sword.

The brown carles stayed ’twixt draught and draught,
And murmuring, stood aloof,
But one spake out when he had laughed:
“God bless the Green-wood Roof!”

Then o’er the ford and up he fared:
And lo the happy hills!
And the mountain-dale by summer cleared,
That oft the winter fills.

Then forth he rode by Peter’s gate,
And smiled and said aloud:
“No more a day doth the Prior wait,
White stands the tower and proud.”

There leaned a knight on the gateway side
In armour white and wan,
And after the heels of the horse he cried,
“God keep the hunted man!”

Then quoth Sir Rafe, “Amen, amen!”
For he deemed the word was good;
But never a while he lingered then
Till he reached the Nether Wood.

He rode by ash, he rode by oak,
He rode the thicket round,
And heard no woodman strike a stroke,
No wandering wife he found.

He rode the wet, he rode the dry,
He rode the grassy glade:
At Wood-end yet the sun was high,
And his heart was unafraid.

There on the bent his rein he drew,
And looked o’er field and fold,
O’er all the merry meads he knew
Beneath the mountains old.

He gazed across to the good Green Howe
As he smelt the sun-warmed sward;
Then his face grew pale from chin to brow,
And he cried, “God save the sword!”

For there beyond the winding way,
Above the orchards green,
Stood up the ancient gables gray
With ne’er a roof between.

His naked blade in hand he had,
O’er rough and smooth he rode,
Till he stood where once his heart was glad
Amidst his old abode.

Across the hearth a tie-beam lay
Unmoved a weary while.
The flame that clomb the ashlar gray
Had burned it red as tile.

The sparrows bickering on the floor
Fled at his entering in;
The swift flew past the empty door
His winged meat to win.

Red apples from the tall old tree
O’er the wall’s rent were shed.
Thence oft, a little lad, would he
Look down upon the lead.

There turned the cheeping chaffinch now
And feared no birding child;
Through the shot-window thrust a bough
Of garden-rose run wild.

He looked to right, he looked to left,
And down to the cold gray hearth,
Where lay an axe with half burned heft
Amidst the ashen dearth.

He caught it up and cast it wide
Against the gable wall;
Then to the dais did he stride,
O’er beam and bench and all.

Amidst there yet the high-seat stood,
Where erst his sires had sat;
And the mighty board of oaken wood,
The fire had stayed thereat.

Then through the red wrath of his eyne
He saw a sheathed sword,
Laid thwart that wasted field of wine,
Amidmost of the board.

And by the hilts a slug-horn lay,
And therebeside a scroll,
He caught it up and turned away
From the lea-land of the bowl.

Then with the sobbing grief he strove,
For he saw his name thereon;
And the heart within his breast uphove
As the pen’s tale now he won.

“O Rafe, my love of long ago!
Draw forth thy father’s blade,
And blow the horn for friend and foe,
And the good green-wood to aid!”

He turned and took the slug-horn up,
And set it to his mouth,
And o’er that meadow of the cup
Blew east and west and south.

He drew the sword from out the sheath
And shook the fallow brand;
And there a while with bated breath,
And hearkening ear did stand.

Him-seemed the horn’s voice he might hear —
Or the wind that blew o’er all.
Him-seemed that footsteps drew anear —
Or the boughs shook round the hall.

Him-seemed he heard a voice he knew —
Or a dream of while agone.
Him-seemed bright raiment towards him drew —
Or bright the sun-set shone.

She stood before him face to face,
With the sun-beam thwart her hand,
As on the gold of the Holy Place
The painted angels stand.

With many a kiss she closed his eyes;
She kissed him cheek and chin:
E’en so in the painted Paradise
Are Earth’s folk welcomed in.


Scheme Text too long
Poetic Form
Metre 100101001 11101 1111111 00100101 11011101 110101 01010111 010101 11110111 011101 11111111 111101 11110111 11101 01010101 111101 01111101 0100101 11111111 110111 11010111 010101 001011101 110101 11111101 010101 110110101 1101001 11011011 010101 0100110111 110101 11110101 1110111 110011101 1110101 11111111 110101 01110101 1100111 11011101 110101 11110111 011101 11011111 011101 11010111 010101 110110111 1110111 111111111 0111101 11010101 010101 11010101 110101 11010111 110111 111111111 011101 01010111 010101 0111011 111111 010100101 1111000 01110101 11111 11010111 101101 11010111 110101 110111 01111 10110101 110111 11111111 0110111 11111111 010101 11110111 010101 1101111 110101 01110111 111111 00101111 010111 11011111 11011 11110111 1101 01010111 0101 11110101 1011101 11010111 1111101 00101111 1011111 11111101 111101 01011101 0011111 11010111 011111 0111101 110101 11011101 01011 01011101 01111 11011111 1011111 111111 1011101 11110111 101111 11110111 110111 11011111 1011101 110110101 010101 110011111 111101 11001010 111100
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 4,114
Words 807
Sentences 41
Stanzas 32
Stanza Lengths 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4
Lines Amount 128
Letters per line (avg) 25
Words per line (avg) 6
Letters per stanza (avg) 100
Words per stanza (avg) 25
Font size:
 

Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

4:02 min read
63

William Morris

William Morris, Mayor of Galway, 1527-28. more…

All William Morris poems | William Morris Books

0 fans

Discuss this William Morris poem analysis with the community:

0 Comments

    Citation

    Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:

    Style:MLAChicagoAPA

    "The Hall And The Wood" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Mar. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/41164/the-hall-and-the-wood>.

    Become a member!

    Join our community of poets and poetry lovers to share your work and offer feedback and encouragement to writers all over the world!

    March 2024

    Poetry Contest

    Join our monthly contest for an opportunity to win cash prizes and attain global acclaim for your talent.
    3
    days
    10
    hours
    28
    minutes

    Special Program

    Earn Rewards!

    Unlock exciting rewards such as a free mug and free contest pass by commenting on fellow members' poems today!

    Browse Poetry.com

    Quiz

    Are you a poetry master?

    »
    What is the longest Old English poem?
    A Soul and Body
    B Elene
    C Beowulf
    D The Fates of the Apostles