The Collected Works of William Morris: Scenes from the fall of Troy and other poems and fragments

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Longmans, Green, 1915
 

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Page 379 - And we two were alone in the world, and once, if never again, We knew of the secret of earth and the tale of its labour and pain. Lo amidst London I lift thee, and how little and light thou art, And thou without hope or fear, thou fear and hope of my heart! Lo here thy body beginning, O son, and thy soul and thy life; But how will it be if thou livest, and enterest into the strife, And in love we dwell together when the man is grown in thee, When thy sweet speech I shall hearken, and yet 'twixt thee...
Page 412 - WHAT is this, the sound and rumour? What is this that all men hear, Like the wind in hollow valleys when the storm is drawing near, Like the rolling on of ocean in the eventide of fear? 'Tis the people marching on.
Page 419 - The Wind's on the wold And the night is a-cold. And Thames runs chill 'Twixt mead and hill. But kind and dear Is the old house here, And my heart is warm • 'Midst winter's harm. Rest then...
Page 372 - And telleth of gold, and of hope and unrest ; Of power that helps not ; of wisdom that knoweth, But teacheth not aught of the worst and the best. Of the rich men it telleth, and strange is the story How they have and they hanker, and grip far and wide ; And they live and they die, and the earth and its glory Has been but a burden they scarce might abide. Hark ! the March wind again of a people is telling ; Of the life that they live there, so haggard and grim, That if we and our love amidst them...
Page 379 - And in love we dwell together when the man is grown in thee, When thy sweet speech I shall hearken, and yet 'twixt thee and me Shall rise that wall of distance, that round each one doth grow, And maketh it hard and bitter each other's thought to know? Now, therefore, while yet thou art little...
Page 413 - Hark the rolling of the thunder ! Lo, the sun ! and lo, thereunder, Riseth wrath, and hope, and wonder, And the host comes marching on. •' Is it war, then? Will ye perish as the dry wood in the fire? Is it peace? Then be ye of us, let your hope be our desire. Come and live! for life awaketh, and the world shall never tire ; And hope is marching on.
Page 373 - Come back to the inn, love, and the lights and the fire, And the fiddler's old tune and the shuffling of feet; For there in a while shall be rest and desire, And there shall the morrow's uprising be sweet.
Page 413 - These are they who build thy houses, weave thy raiment, win thy wheat, Smooth the rugged, fill the barren, turn the bitter into sweet, All for thee this day — and ever. What reward for them is meet Till the host comes marching on?
Page 372 - Rise up on the morrow And go on your ways toward the doubt and the strife; Join hope to our hope and blend sorrow with sorrow, And seek for men's love in the short days of life." But lo, the old inn, and the lights and the fire, And the fiddler's old tune and the shuffling of feet; Soon for us shall be quiet and rest and desire, And tomorrow's uprising to deeds shall be sweet.
Page 380 - When the lights of the Christmas feasting were dead in the house on the hill, And the wild geese gone to the salt-marsh had left the winter still. Yea, I am fair, my firstling ; if thou couldst but remember me ! The hair that thy small hand clutcheth is a goodly sight to see ; I am true, but my face is a snare ; soft and deep are my eyes, And they seem for men's beguiling fulfilled with the dreams of the wise. Kind are my lips, and they look as though my soul had learned Deep things I have never...

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