Poems by the Way Love Is Enough | Page 7

William Morris
dwell therein.
The lips that
smile not though thy children win
The fated Love that draws the fated
Death.
O, borne adown the fresh stream of thy breath,
Let some
word reach my ears and touch my heart,
That, if it may be, I may
have a part
In that great sorrow of thy children dead
That vexed the
brow, and bowed adown the head,
Whitened the hair, made life a
wondrous dream,
And death the murmur of a restful stream,
But
left no stain upon those souls of thine
Whose greatness through the
tangled world doth shine.
O Mother, and Love and Sister all in one,

Come thou; for sure I am enough alone
That thou thine arms about
my heart shouldst throw,
And wrap me in the grief of long ago.
OF THE THREE SEEKERS
There met three knights on the woodland,
And the first was clad in
silk array:
The second was dight in iron and steel,
But the third was

rags from head to heel.
"Lo, now is the year and the day come round

When we must tell what we have found."
The first said: "I have
found a king
Who grudgeth no gift of anything."
The second said:
"I have found a knight
Who hath never turned his back in fight."

But the third said: "I have found a love
That Time and the World
shall never move."
Whither away to win good cheer?
"With me," said the first, "for my
king is near."
So to the King they went their ways;
But there was a
change of times and days.
"What men are ye," the great King said,

"That ye should eat my children's bread?
My waste has fed full many
a store,
And mocking and grudge have I gained therefore.
Whatever
waneth as days wax old.
Full worthy to win are goods and gold."
Whither away to win good cheer?
"With me," said the second, "my
knight is near.
So to the knight they went their ways,
But there was
a change of times and days.
He dwelt in castle sure and strong,
For
fear lest aught should do him wrong.
Guards by gate and hall there
were,
And folk went in and out in fear.
When he heard the mouse
run in the wall,
"Hist!" he said, "what next shall befall?
Draw not
near, speak under your breath,
For all new-comers tell of death.

Bring me no song nor minstrelsy,
Round death it babbleth still," said
he.
"And what is fame and the praise of men,
When lost life cometh
not again?"
Whither away to seek good cheer?
"Ah me!" said the third, "that my
love were anear!
Were the world as little as it is wide,
In a happy
house should ye abide.
Were the world as kind as it is hard,
Ye
should behold a fair reward."
So far by high and low have they gone,
They have come to a waste
was rock and stone.

But lo, from the waste, a company
Full well
bedight came riding by;
And in the midst, a queen, so fair,
That
God wrought well in making her.

The first and second knights abode
To gaze upon her as she rode,

Forth passed the third with head down bent,
And stumbling ever as he
went.
His shoulder brushed her saddle-bow;
He trembled with his
head hung low.
His hand brushed o'er her golden gown,
As on the
waste he fell adown.
So swift to earth her feet she set,
It seemed
that there her arms he met.
His lips that looked the stone to meet

Were on her trembling lips and sweet.
Softly she kissed him cheek
and chin,
His mouth her many tears drank in.
"Where would'st thou
wander, love," she said,
"Now I have drawn thee from the dead?"
"I
go my ways," he said, "and thine
Have nought to do with grief and
pine."
"All ways are one way now," she said,
"Since I have drawn
thee from the dead."
Said he, "But I must seek again
Where first I
met thee in thy pain:
I am not clad so fair," said he,
"But yet the old
hurts thou may'st see.
And thou, but for thy gown of gold,
A piteous
tale of thee were told."
"There is no pain on earth," she said,
"Since
I have drawn thee from the dead."
"And parting waiteth for us there,"

Said he, "as it was yester-year."
"Yet first a space of love," she said,
"Since I have drawn thee from
the dead."
He laughed; said he, "Hast thou a home
Where I and
these my friends may come?"
Laughing, "The world's my home," she
said,
"Now I have drawn thee from the dead.
Yet somewhere is a
space thereof
Where I may dwell beside my love.
There clear the
river grows for him
Till o'er its stones his keel shall swim.
There
faint the thrushes in their song,
And deem he tarrieth overlong.

There summer-tide is waiting now
Until he bids the roses blow.

Come, tell my flowery fields," she said,
"How I have drawn thee
from the dead."
Whither away to win good cheer?
"With me," he said, "for my love is
here.
The wealth of my house it waneth not;
No gift it giveth is
forgot.
No fear my house may enter in,
For nought is there that
death may win.
Now life is little, and death is nought,
Since all is

found that
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