William Morris

Stout must thine heart be, nor shall that avail If thou a wicked soul in thee dost bear; So once again I bid thee to beware, Because no base man things like this may see, And live thereafter long and happily.

Beware, beware! for I have many a spell; If greed of power and gold have led thee on, Not lightly shall this untold wealth be won.

"Alas, alas! another day gone by, Another day and no soul come," she said; "Another year, and still I am not dead!" And with that word once more her head she raised, And on the trembling man with great eyes gazed.

There sat a woman, whose wet tresses rolled On to the floor in waves of gleaming gold, Cast back from such a form as, erewhile shown To one poor shepherd, lighted up Troy town.

And then the image, that well-nigh erased Over the castle-gate he did behold, Above a door well wrought in coloured gold Again he saw; a naked girl with wings Enfolded in a serpent's scaly rings.

Upon the floor uncounted medals lay Like things of little value; here and there Stood golden caldrons, that might well outweigh The biggest midst an emperor's copper-ware, And golden cups were set on tables fair, Themselves of gold; and in …

The wanderer trembled when he saw all this, Because he deemed by magic it was wrought; Yet in his heart a longing for some bliss Whereof the hard and changing world knows nought, Arose and urged him on, and dimmed the thought That there …

No pillager or wrecker had been there; It seemed that time had passed on otherwhere, Nor laid a finger on this hidden place Rich with the wealth of some forgotten race.

And there he saw a door within the wall, Well-hinged, close shut; nor was there in that place Another on its hinges, therefore he Stood there and pondered for a little space And thought: "Perchance some marvel I shall see, For surely here …

the country people, in their fear Of wizardry, had wrought destruction here, And piteously these fair things had been maimed

Noble the house was, nor seemed built for war, But rather like the work of other days, When men, in better peace than now they are, Had leisure on the world around to gaze, And noted well the past times' changing ways; And fair with …

One was there who left all his friends behind; Who going inland ever more and more, And being left quite alone, at last did find A lonely valley sheltered from the wind, Wherein, amidst an ancient cypress wood, A long-deserted ruined …

It happened once, some men of Italy Midst the Greek Islands went a sea-roving, And much good fortune had they on the sea: Of many a man they had the ransoming, And many a chain they gat and goodly thing; And midst their voyage to an isle …

So with this Earthly Paradise it is, If ye will read aright, and pardon me, Who strive to build a shadowy isle of bliss Midmost the beating of the steely sea, Where tossed about all hearts of men must be; Whose ravening monsters mighty men …

Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time, Why should I strive to set the crooked straight? Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme Beats with light wing against the ivory gate, Telling a tale not too importunate To those who in the …

The heavy trouble, the bewildering care That weighs us down who live and earn our bread, These idle verses have no power to bear; So let em sing of names rememberèd, Because they, living not, can ne'er be dead, Or long time take their …

Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing, I cannot ease the burden of your fears, Or make quick-coming death a little thing, Or bring again the pleasure of past years, Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears, Or hope again for aught …

Death have we hated, knowing not what it meant; Life we have loved, through green leaf and through sere, Though still the less we knew of its intent.

To happy folk All heaviest words no more of meaning bear Than far-off bells saddening the Summer air.

A world made to be lost, — A bitter life 'twixt pain and nothing tost.

Late February days; and now, at last, Might you have thought that Winter's woe was past; So fair the sky was and so soft the air.

Earth, left silent by the wind of night, Seems shrunken 'neath the gray unmeasured height.

Forgetfulness of grief I yet may gain; In some wise may come ending to my pain; It may be yet the Gods will have me glad! Yet, Love, I would that thee and pain I had!

Rejoice, lest pleasureless ye die. Within a little time must ye go by. Stretch forth your open hands, and while ye live Take all the gifts that Death and Life may give!