William Morris (1834–1896)

LOVE is enough: though the World be a-waning,

And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,

Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover

The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,

Though the hills 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.

LOVE is enough: ho ye who seek saving,

Go no further; come hither! there have been who have found it,

And these know the House of Fulfilment of Craving;

These know the Cup with the roses around it;

These know the World’s wound and the balm that hath bound it:

Cry out, the World heedeth not, ‘Love, lead us home!’

He leadeth, He hearkeneth, He cometh to you-ward;

Set your faces as steel to the fears that assemble

Round his goad for the faint, and his scourge for the froward:

Lo his lips, how with tales of last kisses they tremble!

Lo his eyes of all sorrow that may not dissemble!

Cry out, for he heedeth, ‘O Love, lead us home!’

O hearken the words of his voice of compassion:

‘Come cling round about me, ye faithful who sicken

Of the weary unrest and the world’s passing fashion!

As the rain in mid-morning your troubles shall thicken,

But surely within you some Godhead doth quicken,

As ye cry to me heeding and leading you home.

‘Come—pain ye shall have, and be blind to the ending!

Come—fear ye shall have, mid the sky’s overcasting!

Come—change ye shall have, for far are ye wending!

Come—no crown ye shall have for your thirst and your fasting,

But the kiss’d lips of Love and fair life everlasting!

Cry out, for one heedeth, who leadeth you home!’

Is he gone? was he with us?—ho ye who seek saving,

Go no further; come hither! for have we not found it?

Here is the House of Fulfilment of Craving;

Here is the Cup with the roses around it;

The World’s wound well healed, and the balm that hath bound it:

Cry out! for he heedeth, fair Love that led home.