The Burghers' Battle

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Title:     The Burghers' Battle
Author: William Morris [More Titles by Morris]

Thick rise the spear-shafts o'er the land
That erst the harvest bore;
The sword is heavy in the hand,
_And we return no more_.
The light wind waves the Ruddy Fox,
Our banner of the war,
And ripples in the Running Ox,
_And we return no more_.
Across our stubble acres now
The teams go four and four;
But out-worn elders guide the plough,
_And we return no more_.
And now the women heavy-eyed
Turn through the open door
From gazing down the highway wide,
_Where we return no more_.
The shadows of the fruited close
Dapple the feast-hall floor;
There lie our dogs and dream and doze,
_And we return no more_.
Down from the minster tower to-day
Fall the soft chimes of yore
Amidst the chattering jackdaws' play:
_And we return no more_.
But underneath the streets are still;
Noon, and the market's o'er!
Back go the goodwives o'er the hill;
_For we return no more_.
What merchant to our gates shall come?
What wise man bring us lore?
What abbot ride away to Rome,
_Now we return no more_?
What mayor shall rule the hall we built?
Whose scarlet sweep the floor?
What judge shall doom the robber's guilt,
_Now we return no more_?
New houses in the streets shall rise
Where builded we before,
Of other stone wrought otherwise;
_For we return no more_.
And crops shall cover field and hill
Unlike what once they bore,
And all be done without our will,
_Now we return no more_.
Look up! the arrows streak the sky,
The horns of battle roar;
The long spears lower and draw nigh,
_And we return no more_.
Remember how beside the wain,
We spoke the word of war,
And sowed this harvest of the plain,
_And we return no more_.
Lay spears about the Ruddy Fox!
The days of old are o'er;
Heave sword about the Running Ox!
_For we return no more_.

[The end]
William Morris's poem: Burghers' Battle

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