University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

expand sectionI. 
expand sectionII. 
expand sectionIII, IV, V, VI. 
expand sectionVII. 
expand sectionIX. 
expand sectionX. 
expand sectionXII. 
collapse sectionXIV. 
collapse section 
  
expand sectionII. 
expand sectionIII. 
expand sectionIV. 
expand sectionV. 
expand sectionVI. 
expand sectionVIII. 
expand sectionIX. 
expand sectionXI. 
expand sectionXIII. 
expand sectionXV. 
expand sectionXVI. 
expand sectionXVII. 
expand sectionXIX. 
expand sectionXX. 
expand sectionXXII. 
expand sectionXXVI. 
expand sectionXXVII. 
expand sectionXXVIII. 
expand sectionXXIX. 
expand sectionXXX. 
expand sectionXXXI. 
expand section 
expand sectionXV. 
expand sectionXVI. 
expand sectionXVII. 
expand sectionXXI. 
expand sectionXXIV. 

He stopped a while and hung his head adown,
As if remembering somewhat; then he drew

229

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.
“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?