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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
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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
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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.
  
[section]
 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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previous sectionCHAPTER XIX. THOSE MESSENGERS COME TO THIODOLF. The Collected Works of William Morris
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[“What do ye sons of the War-shield? what tale is there to tell?]

[Thiodolf.]
“What do ye sons of the War-shield? what tale is there to tell?
Is the Kindred fallen tangled in the grasp of the fallow Hell?
Crows the red cock over the homesteads, have we met the foe too late?
For meseems your brows are heavy with the shadowing o'er of fate.”

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