The Earthly Paradise, (December-February), by William Morris, ,
at sacred-texts.com SO is a year passed of the quiet life, That
these old men from such mishap and strife, Such springing up,
and dying out of dreams Had won at last. What further then?
Meseems Whateer the tale may know of what befell Their lives
henceforth I would not have it tell; Since each tale's ending
needs must be the same: And we men call it Death. Howeer it came
To those, whose bitter hope hath made this book, With other
eyes, I think, they needs must look On its real face, than when
so long agone They thought that every good thing would be won,
If they might win a refuge from it. A long life gone, and
nothing more they know, Why they should live to have desire and
foil, And toil, that overcome, brings yet more toil, Than that
day of their vanished youth, when first They saw Death clear,
and deemed all life accurst By that cold overshadowing
threat,the End. That night, when first they gan their way to
wend, p. 435 And each dash in the mo