The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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| II. |
| III, IV, V, VI. |
| VII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XXI. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
Now came the night, and she must cast aside
All semblance of her coldness and her pride,
And find the weary night was longer yet
Than was the day, and harder to forget
The thoughts that came therewith. How can I tell
In any words the torment of that hell
That she for her own soul had fashioned so,
That from it never any path did go
To lands of rest, no window was therein,
Through which there shone a hope of happier sin;
But close the fiery walls about her glared,
And on one dreadful picture still she stared,
Intent on that desire, that dreadful love,
The dulness of her savage heart that clove
With wasting fire, a bane to her, and all
Who in the net of her vain life might fall.
All semblance of her coldness and her pride,
And find the weary night was longer yet
Than was the day, and harder to forget
The thoughts that came therewith. How can I tell
In any words the torment of that hell
That she for her own soul had fashioned so,
That from it never any path did go
To lands of rest, no window was therein,
Through which there shone a hope of happier sin;
But close the fiery walls about her glared,
And on one dreadful picture still she stared,
Intent on that desire, that dreadful love,
The dulness of her savage heart that clove
With wasting fire, a bane to her, and all
Who in the net of her vain life might fall.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |