University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

expand sectionI. 
expand sectionII. 
expand sectionIII, IV, V, VI. 
expand sectionVII. 
expand sectionIX. 
expand sectionX. 
expand sectionXII. 
expand sectionXIV. 
collapse sectionXV. 
expand section 
  
expand sectionIII. 
expand sectionVI. 
expand sectionIX. 
collapse sectionXV. 
  
expand sectionXX. 
expand sectionXXIX. 
expand sectionXXXIV. 
expand sectionXXXVII. 
expand sectionXXXIX. 
expand sectionXLI. 
expand sectionXLIV. 
expand sectionXLV. 
expand sectionXLVIII. 
expand sectionLI. 
expand sectionLV. 
expand sectionLVIII. 
expand sectionXVI. 
expand sectionXVII. 
expand sectionXXI. 
expand sectionXXIV. 


91

Now at that town, my story saith,
Long must he bide, for so it was
That then no good ship well might pass
From land to land, for wintertide
Still made the narrow seas full wide.
Each morn did John wake there, to gaze
With dead eyes on the waste of days,
Each eve he laid him down to sleep,
Much marvelling what his life did keep
From passing: still the memory
Of some faint, dreamlike thing gone by
Perplexed his heart, and still he strove,
Amid the anguish of his love,
To speak that half-remembered word,
Amidst a dream, belike, once heard.