The Collected Works of William Morris :: :: University of Virginia Library

“For look, this river runneth to the sea
And reaches it by many streams grown great,
If thou wouldst be what thou mayst hope to be
This is the road that leadeth to the gate
Beyond which lies irrevocable fate
For thee for ever; thither must thou go
Alone, for thereof nothing would we know,

“Or see that image of all discontent
Men call the ocean, though we know of it
Through folk who up our stream their course have bent
And told us tales with faces moved no whit
That made us glad to see their white sails flit
Seaward again: from thence too War has come
Once and again to vex our peaceful home.

xxx

“But heed thou this which more concerneth thee:
Up our fair river comes a bark forlorn
Black sailed, black oared, that beareth from the sea
Mostly before a year is well outworn
Him that our quiet peaceful life did scorn;
Dead seemeth he, and yet we deem perchance
He is not dead but in a deathlike trance.

“In silence do those shipmen pass this place,
But not far hence the mournful bark they moor
And taking land, each man with hidden face,
They bear the wanderer to the cavern door
Wherefrom thou camest, whence he came before;
There vanish they with him and in ten days
Come back again their mournful sail to raise.

“And still these men to all our questioning
Will answer nought, wherefore our words we spare
And pay but little heed to this sad thing:
What sayst thou, on this voyage wilt thou fare
And take the fate that waiteth for thee there,
Or wilt thou dwell with us a little while
Till thou hast learned on coming death to smile?

“Yet if thou canst not in good time be wise
Amid these trees hearken the brown bird's note
Nine days, and when the tenth sun shall arise,
Then will we set thee in a little boat
With all things thou mayst need, and thou shalt float
Adown the river to the barren sea
And reach thine hands out to thy destiny.”

He sat in the fair porch amid this speech
And saw betwixt the heavy shadowed trees
The golden plain across the stream's bright reach,
Nigher the children played, and midst of these
The women's raiment fluttered in the breeze,
Close by a damsel caught his eye, and turned
Unto her fellow with bright eyes that burned

xxxj

With joy of life and shame of hopeful love;
A messenger from some far homestead stood
Waiting for silence; from the walnut grove
Birds mocked the grave slow speech in various mood;
Happy all things seemed, fair and soft and good,
Why should he leave it, was he not well freed
From all his woes? what further did he need?

He gave them many thanks, and for nine days
He wandered twixt the river and the trees
Happy and idle, noting all their ways,
Regarding them as painted images
Nor wishing more for other things than these;
Nor had he any will but there to stay
When the tenth morn had chased the clouds away.