WILLIAM MORRIS
That are patiently waiting there for the dawn: Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold
Waits to float through them along with the sun.
Far out in the meadows, above the young corn, The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold
The uneasy wind rises, the roses are dun;
Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn
Round the lone house in the midst of the corn. Speak but one word to me over the corn, Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn.
807 Love is enough
E'VE is enough: though the World be a-waning, And the woods have no voice but the voice of com- plaining,
Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder, Though the hillb be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder
And this day draw a veil over all deeds pass'd over, Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter, The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.
808 Inscription for an Old Bed
E wind 's on the wold And the night is a-cold, And Thames runs chill 'Twixt mead and hill. But kind and dear Is the old house here
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