The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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| XXI. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
xxj
[FEBRUARY.]
[Lines from a later draft.]
“What thing dost thou desire
I cannot give? Has not thy fickle mouth
Been full of praises of the sweet strange fire
That dieth not, of the heart-cleaving drouth
Unquenchable; the sight of deathless youth
And changeless beauty? Shall I take away
These things once given?—Shall night follow day?
I cannot give? Has not thy fickle mouth
Been full of praises of the sweet strange fire
That dieth not, of the heart-cleaving drouth
Unquenchable; the sight of deathless youth
And changeless beauty? Shall I take away
These things once given?—Shall night follow day?
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
“The thing thou seem'st to lack
I have not and I know not; if it lay
Within mine hand to give, yet should I say
The having it would never better thee,
Restless and lonely ever shalt thou be.
[OMITTED]
“The thing thou seem'st to lack
xxij
Within mine hand to give, yet should I say
The having it would never better thee,
Restless and lonely ever shalt thou be.
“Be wise, come back if for a while again!
I am the thing that thou didst cry to have,
That rest and refuge from dull common pain
For which within the world thou didst so crave:
Whence came I, where I wend, what thing shall save
My beauty from the swift decay of earth
I know not; but my heart is full of mirth:
I am the thing that thou didst cry to have,
That rest and refuge from dull common pain
For which within the world thou didst so crave:
Whence came I, where I wend, what thing shall save
My beauty from the swift decay of earth
I know not; but my heart is full of mirth:
“My heart is full of mirth, and all is good;
Good the slow creeping longing and the ruth
That grows to restless fever of the blood,
Good the sweet blindness, good the flash of truth
That dies and comes again; and good the growth
Of half regret and half forgetfulness
That as the days wear the worn heart doth bless.
Good the slow creeping longing and the ruth
That grows to restless fever of the blood,
Good the sweet blindness, good the flash of truth
That dies and comes again; and good the growth
Of half regret and half forgetfulness
That as the days wear the worn heart doth bless.
“Yea even good awhile the emptied heart
To which but half believed quite scorned is pain,
Ere it is garnished for another part,
Good the new love the old shall not disdain
And all the sweetness sweet come back again—
—O come thou back, curse me, weep on my breast,
Belike it is thou hast not known the best!”
To which but half believed quite scorned is pain,
Ere it is garnished for another part,
Good the new love the old shall not disdain
And all the sweetness sweet come back again—
—O come thou back, curse me, weep on my breast,
Belike it is thou hast not known the best!”
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |