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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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Then, trembling as those words she spoke,
She cast to earth her heavy cloak;
From head to foot clad daintily,
Meet for that merry tide was she;
A silver girdle clasped around
Her well-wrought loins, her fair hair crowned
With silver, and her gown enwrought
With flowers whereof that tide knows nought;
Nor needed she that rich attire
To set a young man's heart afire,
For she was delicately made
As is the lily; there she swayed,
Leaned forward to the strenuous wind
That her gay raiment intertwined
About her light limbs. Gazing there,
Bewildered with a strange despair,
John saw her beauty, yet in sooth
Something within him slew all ruth,
If for a moment:
“Ah, what love,
What love,” he cried, “my heart should move,
But mine own love, my worshipped sweet?
Would God that her belovèd feet
Would bless our threshold this same night!”