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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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Musing, his eager speech she heard,
And with a strange look, half afeard,

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Half pitying, did she gaze on him,
Until through tears that sight waxed dim;
At last she spake:
“No need to pray
Lest I thy love, O love, betray;
But many a thought there is in me
If I through love might clearly see;
—Now the morn wanes fast, dear, arise
And let me hence, lest eviler eyes
Than thine behold my body here,
And thou shouldst buy thy bliss too dear;
So bring me to some place anigh
Amid thick trees, where thou and I
May be alone a little space,
To make us ready for the place
Where love may still be happiness
Unmixed with change and ill distress.”