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1834–1896

THE END OF MAY.

William Morris

How the wind howls this morn About the end of May, And drives June on apace To mock the world forlorn

And the world's joy passed away And my unlonged-for face! The world's joy passed away; For no more may I deem

That any folk are glad To see the dawn of day Sunder the tangled dream Wherein no grief they had.

Ah, through the tangled dream Where others have no grief Ever it fares with me That fears and treasons stream

And dumb sleep slays belief Whatso therein may be. Sleep slayeth all belief Until the hopeless light

Wakes at the birth of June More lying tales to weave, More love in woe's despite, More hope to perish soon.

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THE END OF MAY. · William Morris · Poetry Cove