The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
I. |
II. |
III, IV, V, VI. |
VII. |
IX. |
X. |
XII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
III. |
VI. |
IX. |
XV. |
XX. |
XXIX. |
XXXIV. |
XXXVII. |
XXXIX. |
XLI. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVIII. |
LI. |
LV. |
LVIII. |
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 | ||