THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS WHEREIN IS TOLD SOMEWHAT OF THE LIVES OF
THE MEN OF BURGDALE THEIR FRIENDS THEIR NEIGHBOURS THEIR FOEMEN AND
THEIR FELLOWS IN ARMS
BY WILLIAM MORRIS




Whiles carried o'er the iron road,
We hurry by some fair abode;
The garden bright amidst the hay,
The yellow wain upon the way,
The dining men, the wind that sweeps
Light locks from off the sun-sweet heaps -
The gable grey, the hoary roof,
Here now--and now so far aloof.
How sorely then we long to stay
And midst its sweetness wear the day,
And 'neath its changing shadows sit,
And feel ourselves a part of it.
Such rest, such stay, I strove to win
With these same leaves that lie herein.



CHAPTER I. OF BURGSTEAD AND ITS FOLK AND ITS NEIGHBOURS



Once upon a time amidst the mountains and hills and falling streams