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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris
Morris, William (1834-1896)

expand sectionI. 
VOLUME I THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE AND OTHER POEMS
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VOLUME II THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON
expand sectionIII, IV, V, VI. 
VOLUME III, IV, V, VI THE EARTHLY PARADISE
expand sectionVII. 
VOLUME VII THE STORY OF GRETTIR THE STRONG. THE STORY OF THE VOLSUNGS AND NIBLUNGS
expand sectionIX. 
VOLUME IX LOVE IS ENOUGH. POEMS BY THE WAY
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VOLUME X THREE NORTHERN LOVE STORIES. THE TALE OF BEOWULF
expand sectionXII. 
VOLUME XII THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG AND THE FALL OF THE NIBLUNGS
expand sectionXIV. 
VOLUME XIV THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS. THE STORY OF THE GLITTERING PLAIN
expand sectionXV. 
VOLUME XV THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS
expand sectionXVI. 
VOLUME XVI NEWS FROM NOWHERE. A DREAM OF JOHN BALL. A KING'S LESSON
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VOLUME XVII THE WOOD BEYOND THE WORLD. CHILD CHRISTOPHER. OLD FRENCH ROMANCES
expand sectionXXI. 
VOLUME XXI THE SUNDERING FLOOD. UNFINISHED ROMANCES
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VOLUME XXIV SCENES FROM THE FALL OF TROY AND OTHER POEMS AND FRAGMENTS
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EARLY POEMS
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POEMS OF THE EARTHLY PARADISE TIME (About 1865-1870)
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LATE POEMS
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THE PILGRIMS OF HOPE
 I. 
[I.] THE MESSAGE OF THE MARCH WIND
 II. 
II. THE BRIDGE AND THE STREET.
 III. 
III. SENDING TO THE WAR.
 IV. 
IV. MOTHER AND SON.
  
[section]
 V. 
V. NEW BIRTH.
 VI. 
VI. THE NEW PROLETARIAN.
  
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 VII. 
VII. IN PRISON—AND AT HOME.
 VIII. 
VIII. THE HALF OF LIFE GONE.
 IX. 
IX. A NEW FRIEND.
 X. 
X. READY TO DEPART.
 XI. 
XI. A GLIMPSE OF THE COMING DAY.
 XII. 
XII. MEETING THE WAR-MACHINE.
 XIII. 
XIII. THE STORY'S ENDING.
  
NO MASTER
  
THE MARCH OF THE WORKERS
  
DOWN AMONG THE DEAD MEN
  
MAY DAY
  
MAY DAY, 1894
  
FOR THE BED AT KELMSCOTT

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Full dear was Sigurd the Volsung to all men most and least,
And now, as the spring drew onward, 'twas deemed a goodly feast
For the acre-biders' children by the Niblung Burg to wait,
If perchance the Son of Sigmund should ride abroad by the gate:
For whosoever feared him, no little-one, forsooth,
Would shrink from the shining eyes and the hand that clave out truth
From the heart of the wrack and the battle: it was then, as his gold gear burned
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O'er the balks of the bridge and the river, that oft the mother turned,
And spake to the laughing baby: “O little son, and dear,
When I from the world am departed, and whiles a-nights ye hear
The best of man-folk longing for the least of Sigurd's days,
Thou shalt hearken to their story, till they tell forth all his praise,
And become beloved and a wonder, as thou sayest when all is sung,
‘And I too once beheld him in the days when I was young.’”
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