| The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris | 
|  | I. | 
|  | II. | 
|  | III, IV, V, VI. | 
|  | VII. | 
|  | 
|  | 
|  | 
|  | 
|  | 
|  | XIV. | 
|  | XVI. | 
|  | XVII. | 
|  | XVIII. | 
|  | XIX. | 
|  | XXI. | 
|  | XXII. | 
|  | XXIV. | 
|  | XXVII. | 
|  | XXVIII. | 
|  | XXXI. | 
|  | XXXVII. | 
|  | XL. | 
|  | XLVII. | 
|  | XLVIII. | 
|  | LII. | 
|  | LIV. | 
|  | LVII. | 
|  | LIX. | 
|  | LXI. | 
|  | LXII. | 
|  | LXIII. | 
|  | LXVI. | 
|  | LXXIV. | 
|  | LXXVII. | 
|  | LXXXII. | 
|  | LXXXVI. | 
|  | XC. | 
|  | 
|  | VIII. | 
|  | XIV. | 
|  | XVII. | 
|  | XIX. | 
|  | XX. | 
|  | XXVII. | 
|  | XXVIII. | 
|  | XXIX. | 
|  | XXX. | 
|  | XXXI. | 
|  | XXXIII. | 
|  | XLIII. | 
|  | 
|  | IX. | 
|  | X. | 
|  | XII. | 
|  | XIV. | 
|  | XV. | 
|  | XVI. | 
|  | XVII. | 
|  | XXI. | 
|  | XXIV. | 
|  | The Collected Works of William Morris |  | 
A fearful night, when some at last must think
That they of no more horror now might drink
Than they had drank; wherefore, with stress of fear
Made brave, some men must catch up shield and spear,
And leaderless go forth unto the flame
All eyes were turned to; but when daylight came,
With its grey light came naked death again,
And honourless did all things seem and vain
That man might do; the gates were left ajar,
And through the streets helpless in weed of war
The warders went: nought worth the King was made,
When by each man the truth of all was weighed,
And all seemed wanting: help there was in none.
That they of no more horror now might drink
Than they had drank; wherefore, with stress of fear
Made brave, some men must catch up shield and spear,
And leaderless go forth unto the flame
All eyes were turned to; but when daylight came,
With its grey light came naked death again,
And honourless did all things seem and vain
That man might do; the gates were left ajar,
And through the streets helpless in weed of war
The warders went: nought worth the King was made,
When by each man the truth of all was weighed,
And all seemed wanting: help there was in none.
|  | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |