The Collected Works of William Morris With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris |
 | I. |
| II. |
 | III, IV, V, VI. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
|
|
|
|
| IV. |
| VII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XXI. |
| XXIV. |
 | The Collected Works of William Morris |  |
139
Is busy midst her gown,” he said,
“The fresh-plucked flowers about her head
Are drooping now with their desire;
The grass with unconsuming fire
Faints 'neath the pressure of her feet;
The honey-bees her lips would meet,
But fail for fear; the swift's bright eyes
Are eager round the mysteries
Of the fair hidden fragrant breast,
Where now alone may I know rest—
—Ah pity me, thou pitiless!
Bless me who know'st not how to bless;
Fall from thy height, thou highest of all,
On me a very wretch to call!
Thou, to whom all things Fate doth give,
Find without me thou canst not live!
Desire me, O thou World's Desire,
Light thy pure heart at this base fire!
Save me, of whom thou knowest nought,
Of whom thou never hadst a thought!
O Queen of all the world, stoop down,
Before my feet cast thou thy crown!
Speak to me, as I speak to thee!”
| The Collected Works of William Morris | |