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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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364

O FAR AWAY TO SEEK

O far away to seek, Close-hid for heart to find,
O hard to cast away, Impossible to bind!
A pain when sought and found, A pain when slipped away,
Yet by whatever name, Be nigh us, Love, today.
Sweet was the summer day, Before thou camest here,
But never sweet to me, And Death was drawing near!
Is it summer still? What meaneth the word Death,
What meaneth all the joy Thy mouth, Love, promiseth?
Wherefore must thou babble Of thy finding me alone?
What is this idle word, That thou may'st yet be gone?
Laugh, laugh, Love, as I laugh, When mine own love kisseth me
And saith no more of bliss Twixt lips and lips shall be.
O Love, thou hast slain time, How shall he live again?
We bless thy bitter wound, We bless thy sleepless pain—
Hope and fear slain each of each Doubt forgetting all he said
Death in some place forgotten Lingering, and half dead.
When my hand forgets her cunning I will loose thee, Love, and pray
—Ah and pray to what—For a never-ending day,
Where we may sit apart, Hapless, undying still,
With thoughts of the old story Our sundered hearts to fill.