The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
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| XXI. |
 | XXIV. |
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 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
185
To where the sea beat on a barren hill,
And a long stage of timber met the sea,
At end whereof was tossing fearfully
A little boat that had no oars or sail,
Or aught that could the mariner avail.
Thither with her their steps the soldiers bent,
And as along the narrow way they went
The salt waves leapt aloft to kiss her feet
And in the wind streamed out her tresses sweet;
But little heed she took of feet or head,
For nought she doubted she to death was led,
But ever did she hold against her breast
The little babe, and spoke not for the rest;
No, not when in the boat they bade her go,
And 'twixt its bulwarks thin she lay alow,
Nor when adrift they set her presently
And all about was but the angry sea.
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |