The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
![]() | III, IV, V, VI. |
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![]() | VIII. |
![]() | XIV. |
![]() | XVII. |
![]() | XIX. |
![]() | XX. |
![]() | XXVII. |
![]() | XXVIII. |
![]() | XXIX. |
![]() | XXX. |
![]() | XXXI. |
![]() | XXXIII. |
![]() | XLIII. |
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![]() | IX. |
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![]() | XII. |
![]() | XIV. |
![]() | XV. |
![]() | XVI. |
![]() | XVII. |
![]() | XXI. |
![]() | XXIV. |
![]() | The Collected Works of William Morris | ![]() |
He stopped a while and hung his head adown,
As if remembering somewhat; then he drew
Nigher the King, and said: “This thing is true,
Though thou believe it not—that I was glad
Within the hour that yet my life I had,
Though this I saw—the garth made waste and bare,
Burnt as with fire, and for the homestead fair
The last flames dying o'er an ash-heap grey—
Gone was the mill, the freed stream took its way
In unchecked shallows o'er a sandy bed.
As if remembering somewhat; then he drew
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Though thou believe it not—that I was glad
Within the hour that yet my life I had,
Though this I saw—the garth made waste and bare,
Burnt as with fire, and for the homestead fair
The last flames dying o'er an ash-heap grey—
Gone was the mill, the freed stream took its way
In unchecked shallows o'er a sandy bed.
“I knew not if my kin were slain or fled,
Yet was I glad awhile that nought was there
But me alone, till sense and dread 'gan stir
Within my heart; then slowly I began
To move about, and saw no child of man—
Unless maybe those ash-heaps here and there
I durst not go anigh, my fellows were.
Could I but flee away now! down I gat
Unto the stream, yet on the bank I sat
A long while yet, bewildered; till at last
I gathered heart, and through the stream ran fast,
And on and on, and cried: ‘Are all men gone?
Is there none left on earth but I alone,
And have I nought to tell my tale unto?
Yet was I glad awhile that nought was there
But me alone, till sense and dread 'gan stir
Within my heart; then slowly I began
To move about, and saw no child of man—
Unless maybe those ash-heaps here and there
I durst not go anigh, my fellows were.
Could I but flee away now! down I gat
Unto the stream, yet on the bank I sat
A long while yet, bewildered; till at last
I gathered heart, and through the stream ran fast,
And on and on, and cried: ‘Are all men gone?
Is there none left on earth but I alone,
And have I nought to tell my tale unto?
![]() | The Collected Works of William Morris | ![]() |