The Collected Works of William Morris :: :: University of Virginia Library

And now adown the Seine the golden sun
Shone out, as toward him drew that lovely one
And took from off his head the royal crown,
And smiling, on the pillow laid it down
And said: “Lie there, O crown of Charlemaine,
Worn by a mighty man, and worn in vain,
Because he died, and all the things he did
Were changed before his face by earth was hid;
A better crown I have for my love's head,
Whereby he yet shall live when all are dead
His hand has helped.” Then on his head she set
The wondrous crown, and said: “Forget, forget!
Forget these weary things, for thou hast much
Of happiness to think of.”

At that touch
He rose, a happy light gleamed in his eyes;
And smitten by the rush of memories,
He stammered out: “O love! how came we here?
What do we in this land of Death and Fear?
Have I not been from thee a weary while?
Let us return—I dreamed about the isle;
I dreamed of other years of strife and pain,
Of new years full of struggles long and vain.”

She took him by the hand and said: “Come, love,
I am not changed.” And therewith did they move
Unto the door, and through the sleeping place
Swiftly they went, and still was Ogier's face
Turned on her beauty, and no thought was his
Except the dear returning of his bliss.

But at the threshold of the palace-gate
That opened to them, she awhile did wait,
And turned her eyes unto the rippling Seine
And said: “O love, behold it once again!”
He turned, and gazed upon the city grey
Smit by the gold of that sweet morn of May;
He heard faint noises as of wakening folk

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As on their heads his day of glory broke;
He heard the changing rush of the swift stream
Against the bridge-piers. All was grown a dream,
His work was over, his reward was come,
Why should he loiter longer from his home?