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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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But the last smile from off his face was gone,
When silent, in a while he rode alone
With Bodli silent: then he said to him:
“Thou seest, Bodli, how we twain must swim
Adown a strange stream—thou art weaponless
To-day, and certes bides my sword no less
Within its scabbard—how long shall it last?”