The Ballad of the White Horse

In a tree that yawned and twisted The King's few goods were flung, A mass-book mildewed, line by line, And weapons and a skin of wine, And an old harp unstrung.

In the years of the peace of Wessex, When the good King sat at home; Years following on that bloody boon When she that stands above the moon Stood above death at Ethandune And s...

Away in the waste of White Horse Down An idle child alone Played some small game through hours that pass, And patiently would pluck the grass, Patiently push the stone.

Thick thunder of the snorting swine, Enormous in the gloam, Rending among all roots that cling, And the wild horses whinnying, Were the night's noises when the King Shouldering...

King Guthrum was a dread king, Like death out of the north; Shrines without name or number He rent and rolled as lumber, From Chester to the Humber He drove his foemen forth.

As the sea flooding the flat sands Flew on the sea-born horde, The two hosts shocked with dust and din, Left of the Latian paladin, Clanged all Prince Harold's howling kin On Co...

The King went gathering Wessex men, As grain out of the chaff The few that were alive to die, Laughing, as littered skulls that lie After lost battles turn to the sky An everlas...

For the White Horse knew England When there was none to know; He saw the first oar break or bend, He saw heaven fall and the world end, O God, how long ago.