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A poem by William Morris |
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All For The Cause |
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Title: All For The Cause Author: William Morris [More Titles by Morris] Hear a word, a word in season, for the day is drawing nigh, He that dies shall not die lonely, many an one hath gone before; Nothing ancient is their story, e'en but yesterday they bled, E'en the tidings we are telling was the tale they had to tell, In the grave where tyrants thrust them, lies their labour and their pain, Mourn not therefore, nor lament it, that the world outlives their life; Some had name, and fame, and honour, learn'd they were, and wise and Named and nameless all live in us; one and all they lead us yet Hearken how they cry, "O happy, happy ye that ye were born "Fair the crown the Cause hath for you, well to die or well to live Ah, it may be! Oft meseemeth, in the days that yet shall be, Oft, when men and maids are merry, ere the sunlight leaves the earth, Some shall pause awhile and ponder on the bitter days of old, Then 'twixt lips of loved and lover solemn thoughts of us shall rise; There amidst the world new-builded shall our earthly deeds abide, Life or death then, who shall heed it, what we gain or what we lose? Hear a word, a word in season, for the day is drawing nigh, [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |