William Morris

(1834 - 1896 / England)

William Morris Poems

1. Prologue of the Earthly Paradise 5/27/2015
2. Masters in This Hall 11/28/2015
3. The Folk-Mote By The River 4/13/2010
4. The King Of Denmark's Sons 4/13/2010
5. The Lay Of Christine 4/13/2010
6. To The Muse Of The North 4/13/2010
7. Verses For Pictures 4/13/2010
8. The Hall And The Wood 4/13/2010
9. The Son's Sorrow 4/13/2010
10. Sir Peter Harpdon's End 4/13/2010
11. The Burgher's Battle 4/13/2010
12. Knight Aagen And The Maiden Else 4/13/2010
13. The Two Sides Of The River 4/13/2010
14. The Flowering Orchard 4/13/2010
15. The Lion 4/13/2010
16. The God Of The Poor 4/13/2010
17. On The Edge Of The Wilderness 4/13/2010
18. The Raven And The King's Daughter 4/13/2010
19. Spring's Bedfellow 4/13/2010
20. Of The Three Seekers 4/13/2010
21. The Orchard 4/13/2010
22. The Woodpecker 4/13/2010
23. The Forest 4/13/2010
24. The Half Of Life Gone 4/13/2010
25. Of The Wooing Of Halbiorn The Strong 4/13/2010
26. The Day Of Days 4/13/2010
27. Tapestry Trees 4/13/2010
28. Mother And Son 4/13/2010
29. Song Vi: Cherish Life That Abideth 1/3/2003
30. Song Iv: Draw Near And Behold Me 1/3/2003
31. Thunder In The Garden 4/13/2010
32. The End Of May 4/13/2010
33. The Message Of The March Wind 4/13/2010
34. Pray But One Prayer For Us 4/13/2010
35. Song I: Though The World Be A-Waning 1/3/2003
36. Song V: Through The Trouble And Tangle 1/3/2003
37. Song Iii: It Grew Up Without Heeding 1/3/2003
38. Song Vii: Dawn Talks To Day 1/3/2003
39. Song Ii: Have No Thought For Tomorrow 1/3/2003
40. Song Ix: Ho Ye Who Seek Saving 1/3/2003
Best Poem of William Morris

Autumn

Laden Autumn here I stand
Worn of heart, and weak of hand:
Nought but rest seems good to me,
Speak the word that sets me free.

Read the full of Autumn

Atalanta's Race

Through thick Arcadian woods a hunter went,
Following the beasts upon a fresh spring day;
But since his horn-tipped bow but seldom bent,
Now at the noontide nought had happed to slay,
Within a vale he called his hounds away,
Hearkening the echoes of his lone voice cling
About the cliffs and through the beech-trees ring.

But when they ended, still awhile he stood,

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