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. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XXI. |
 | XXIV. |
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 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
So is a year passed of the quiet life,
That these old men from such mishap and strife,
Such springing up and dying out of dreams,
Had won at last. What further then? Meseems
Whate'er the tale may know of what befell
Their lives henceforth I would not have it tell;
Since each tale's ending needs must be the same:
And we men call it Death. Howe'er it came
To those, whose bitter hope hath made this book,
With other eyes, I think, they needs must look
On its real face, than when so long agone
They thought that every good thing would be won,
If they might win a refuge from it.
That these old men from such mishap and strife,
Such springing up and dying out of dreams,
Had won at last. What further then? Meseems
Whate'er the tale may know of what befell
Their lives henceforth I would not have it tell;
Since each tale's ending needs must be the same:
And we men call it Death. Howe'er it came
To those, whose bitter hope hath made this book,
With other eyes, I think, they needs must look
On its real face, than when so long agone
They thought that every good thing would be won,
If they might win a refuge from it.
Lo,
A long life gone, and nothing more they know,
Why they should live to have desire and foil,
And toil that overcome, brings yet more toil,
Than that day of their vanished youth, when first
They saw Death clear, and deemed all life accurst
By that cold overshadowing threat—the End.
A long life gone, and nothing more they know,
Why they should live to have desire and foil,
And toil that overcome, brings yet more toil,
Than that day of their vanished youth, when first
They saw Death clear, and deemed all life accurst
By that cold overshadowing threat—the End.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |