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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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A little toward him did one slim hand move,
Then fell again mid folds of her fair gown;
She spake:
“Farewell, a great man art thou grown;
Thou know'st not fear or lies; so fare thou forth:
If the Gods keep not what is most of worth
Here in the world, its memory bides behind;
And we perchance in other days may find
The end of hollow dreams we once have dreamed,
Waking from which such hopeless anguish seemed.”