The Collected Works of William Morris :: :: University of Virginia Library

Silence a little when the tale was told,
Soon broken by the merry-voiced and bold
Among the youths, though some belike were fain
For more of silence yet, that their sweet pain
Might be made sweeter still by hope and thought
Amid the words of the old story caught—
Might be made keener by the pensive eyes
That half-confessed love made so kind and wise;
Yet these two, midst the others, went their way,
To get them through the short October day
'Twixt toil and toilsome love, e'en as they might;
If so, perchance, the kind and silent night
Might yet reward their reverent love with dreams
Less full of care.

But round the must's red streams,
'Twixt the stripped vines the elders wandered slow,
And unto them, e'en as a soothing show
Was the hid longing, wild desire, blithe hope,
That seethed there on the tangled sun-worn slope
'Twixt noon and moonrise. Resolute were they
To let no pang of memory mar their day,
And long had fear, before the coming rest,
Been set aside. And so the changèd west,
Forgotten of the sun, was grey with haze;
The moon was high and bright, when through the maze
Of draggled tendrils back at last they turned,
And red the lights within the fair house burned
Through the grey night; strained string, and measured voice
Of minstrels, mingled with the varying noise
Of those who through the deep-cut misty roads
Went slowly homeward now to their abodes.
A short space more of that short space was gone,
Wherein each deemed himself not quite alone.