Page:Early poems of William Morris.djvu/109

 And went off angrily; and while thenceforth

I hurried gaspingly afraid, I heard,

"Guesclin;" "Five thousand men-at-arms;" "Clisson."

My heart misgives me it is all in vain

I send these succours; and in good time there!

Their trumpet sounds, ah! here they are; good knights,

God up in Heaven keep you.

And find him prisoner—for I can't believe

Guesclin will slay him, even though they storm—

(The last horse turns the corner.)

What have I got to thinking of at last!

That thief I will not name is with Guesclin,

Who loves him for his lands. My love! my love!

O, if I lose you after all the past,

What shall I do?

And light street out there, with this thought alive,

Like any curlings snake within my brain;

Let me just hide my head within these soft

Deep cushions, there to try and think it out.

I cannot hear much noise now, and I think

That I shall go to sleep: it all sounds dim

And faint, and I shall soon forget most things;

Yea, almost that I am alive and here;

It goes slow, comes slow, like a big mill-wheel

On some broad stream, with long green weeds a-sway,

And soft and slow it rises and it falls.

Still going onward.

And I should be in Avalon asleep,