Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. V. Browning to Rupert Brooke

William Morris (1834–1896)

Extracts from The Earthly Paradise: February

NOON—and the north-west sweeps the empty road,

The rain-washed fields from hedge to hedge are bare;

Beneath the leafless elms some hind’s abode

Looks small and void, and no smoke meets the air

From its poor hearth: one lonely rook doth dare

The gale, and beats above the unseen corn,

Then turns, and whirling down the wind is borne.

Shall it not hap that on some dawn of May

Thou shalt awake, and, thinking of days dead,

See nothing clear but this same dreary day,

Of all the days that have passed o’er thine head?

Shalt thou not wonder, looking from thy bed,

Through green leaves on the windless east a-fire,

That this day too thine heart doth still desire?

Shalt thou not wonder that it liveth yet,

The useless hope, the useless craving pain,

That made thy face, that lonely noontide, wet

With more than beating of the chilly rain?

Shalt thou not hope for joy new born again,

Since no grief ever born can ever die

Through changeless change of seasons passing by?