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The Collected Works of William Morris

With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris

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None came, sore trembling did he strive
To search the strange place through, but still
His hope, fear-tangled, and the ill
That might be, bound his eyes full fast
A long while—crying out at last
E'en ere his eyes had left the ground,
As one who some lost thing has found,
He stepped forth, and with all surprise
Made nought by love, his mortal eyes,
His weary eyes, beheld indeed
His heart's desire, his life, his need,
Still on the earth, still there for him;
And as he gazed, most weak and dim
Seemed all the visions wherewith he
Was wont to feed his misery,
To dull the pain unsatisfied,
That still for death or presence cried.