Page:Early poems of William Morris.djvu/148

 What if his hair that brush'd her cheek

Was stiff with frozen rime?

His eyes were grown quite blue again,

As in the happy time.

"O, love Louise, this is the key

Of the happy golden land!

O, sisters, cross the bridge with me,

My eyes are full of sand.

What matter that I cannot see,

If ye take me by the hand?"

And ever the great bell overhead,

And the tumbling seas mourn'd for the dead;

For their song ceased, and they were dead.