Puck of Pook's Hill
Rudyard Kipling, Arthur Rackham
language
(, Jan. 3, 2016)
Contents(Short Stories)Puck’s SongWeland’s SwordA Tree SongYoung Men at the ManorSir Richard’s SongHarp Song of the Dane WomenThe Knights of the Joyous VentureThorkild’s SongOld Men at PevenseyThe Runes on Weland’s SwordA Centurion of the ThirtiethA British-Roman SongOn the Great WallA Song to MithrasThe Winged HatsA Pict SongHal o’ the DraftA Smugglers’ SongThe Bee Boy’s Song‘Dymchurch Flit’A Three-Part SongSong of the Fifth RiverThe Treasure and the LawThe Children’s SongExcerpt:PUCK’S SONGSee you the dimpled track that runs,All hollow through the wheat?O that was where they hauled the gunsThat smote King Philip’s fleet.See you our little mill that clacks,So busy by the brook?She has ground her corn and paid her taxEver since Domesday Book.See you our stilly woods of oak,And the dread ditch beside?O that was where the Saxons broke,On the day that Harold died.See you the windy levels spreadAbout the gates of Rye?O that was where the Northmen fled,When Alfred’s ships came by.See you our pastures wide and lone,Where the red oxen browse?O there was a City thronged and known,Ere London boasted a house.And see you, after rain, the traceOf mound and ditch and wall?O that was a Legion’s camping-place,When Cæsar sailed from Gaul.[pg 2] And see you marks that show and fade,Like shadows on the Downs?O they are the lines the Flint Men made,To guard their wondrous towns.Trackway and Camp and City lost,Salt Marsh where now is corn;Old Wars, old Peace, old Arts that cease,And so was England born!She is not any common Earth,Water or wood or air,But Merlin’s Isle of Gramarye,Where you and I will fare.