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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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But as he stood there, presently
With smiling face she drew anigh,
And on his face he felt her breath.
“O love,” she said, “dost thou fear death?
Not till next morning shalt thou die
Or fall into thy misery.”
Then on his hand her hand did fall
And forth she led him down the hall,
Going full softly by his side.
“O love,” she said, “now well betide
The day whereon thou cam'st to me.
I would this night a year might be,
Yea, life-long; such life as we have,
A thousand years from womb to grave.”