William Morris
Song VI: Cherish Life that Abideth
Love is enough: cherish life that abideth, Lest ye die ere ye know him, and curse and misname him; For who knows in what ruin of all hope he hideth, On what wings of
A Good Knight In Prison
Wearily, drearily, Half the day long, Flap the great banners High over the stone; Strangely and eerily Sounds the wind’s song, Bending the banner-poles. While, all alone, Watching the loophole’s spark, Lie I, with
Summer Dawn
Pray but one prayer for me ‘twixt thy closed lips, Think but one thought of me up in the stars. The summer night waneth, the morning light slips, Faint and grey ‘twixt the leaves
The Story of Sigurd the Volsung (excerpt)
But therewith the sun rose upward and lightened all the earth, And the light flashed up to the heavens from the rims of the glorious girth; But they twain arose together, and with both
The Defence of Guenevere
But, learning now that they would have her speak, She threw her wet hair backward from her brow, Her hand close to her mouth touching her cheek, As though she had had there a
Song I: Though the World Be A-Waning
Love is enough: though the World be a-waning And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining, Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover The gold-cups and daisies
Pomona
I am the ancient apple-queen, As once I was so am I now. For evermore a hope unseen, Betwixt the blossom and the bough. Ah, where’s the river’s hidden Gold! And where the windy
Near But Far Away
She wavered, stopped and turned, methought her eyes, The deep grey windows of her heart, were wet, Methought they softened with a new regret To note in mine unspoken miseries, And as a prayer
Sir Galahad, a Christmas Mystery
It is the longest night in all the year, Near on the day when the Lord Christ was born; Six hours ago I came and sat down here, And ponder’d sadly, wearied and forlorn.
The Nymph's Song to Hylas
I KNOW a little garden-close Set thick with lily and red rose, Where I would wander if I might From dewy dawn to dewy night, And have one with me wandering. And though within
The Chapel in Lyonesse
SIR OZANA. All day long and every day, From Christmas-Eve to Whit-Sunday, Within that Chapel-aisle I lay, And no man came a-near. Naked to the waist was I, And deep within my breast did
A Death Song
What cometh here from west to east awending? And who are these, the marchers stern and slow? We bear the message that the rich are sending Aback to those who bade them wake and
The Doomed Ship
The doomed ship drives on helpless through the sea, All that the mariners may do is done And death is left for men to gaze upon, While side by side two friends sit silently;
Love's Gleaning Tide
Draw not away thy hands, my love, With wind alone the branches move, And though the leaves be scant above The Autumn shall not shame us. Say; Let the world wax cold and drear,
March
Slayer of the winter, art thou here again? O welcome, thou that’s bring’st the summer nigh! The bitter wind makes not thy victory vain, Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky.