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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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He spake, but mid the tumult of her mind
She heard him not, and deaf she was and blind
To all without, nor knew she if her feet
The marble cold or red-hot iron did meet.
She moved not and she felt not, but a sound
Came from her lips, and smote the air around
With slow hard words:
“Ah! thou hast named him then
Twice in this hour alone of earthly men;—
That same Bellerophon, that all folk love,
In manly wise this morn against me strove!”