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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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For all her words she wept right sore.
“What wouldest thou?” he said in turn,
“Thou know'st for thee and peace I yearn
Past words—but now thy lips have sealed
My lips with mysteries unrevealed;
How shall I pray, this bitter morn
That joy and me atwain hath torn?
While yet as in a dream it is
Both bliss and this strange end of bliss.
Ah, what more can I say thereof?
That never any end of love
I know, though all my bliss hath end;
That where thou willest I will wend,
Abide where thou wouldst have me stay,
Pass bitter day on bitter day
Silent of thee, and make no sign
Of all the love and life divine,
That is my life and knowledge now.”