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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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137

If here my tale could have an end,
O my masters, I might say now
Although our lives we well might mend
Yet were we happy men enow.
Further afield my story goes
And drags us through most evil ways,
And woes past all our other woes;
Unbearable and heavy days.
For there we all lived happily
Until our youth was wholly gone
And wives and friends began to die:
Then on a day I walked alone,
And as I walked, there all about
The merry children at their play
Ran by, with many a joyous shout;
And there went singing many a may.
Thereby a house was built richly
Behind a garden walled with stone,
Therein upon the grass did lie
A fair maid singing all alone.