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Then listen! when this day is overpast, A fearful monster shall I be again, And thou mayst be my saviour at the last, Unless, once more, thy words ar… - William Morris
" "Then listen! when this day is overpast, A fearful monster shall I be again, And thou mayst be my saviour at the last, Unless, once more, thy words are nought and vain. If thou of love and sovereignty art fain, Come thou next morn, and when thou seest here A hideous dragon, have thereof no fear, But take the loathsome head up in thine hands And kiss it, and be master presently Of twice the wealth that is in all the lands From Cathay to the head of Italy; And master also, if it pleaseth thee, Of all thou praisest as so fresh and bright, Of what thou callest crown of all delight. Ah! with what joy then shall I see again The sunlight on the green grass and the trees, And hear the clatter of the summer rain, And see the joyous folk beyond the seas. Ah, me! to hold my child upon my knees After the weeping of unkindly tears And all the wrongs of these four hundred years. Go now, go quick! leave this grey heap of stone; And from thy glad heart think upon thy way, How I shall love thee — yea, love thee alone, That bringest me from dark death unto day; For this shall be thy wages and thy pay; Unheard-of wealth, unheard-of love is near, If thou hast heart a little dread to bear.
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About William Morris
William Morris (24 March 1834 – 3 October 1896) was a British textile designer, poet, novelist, translator, and socialist activist associated with the British Arts and Crafts Movement.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Also Known As
Alternative Names:
William M. Morris
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Additional quotes by William Morris
What shall I say concerning its mastery of and its waste of mechanical power, its commonwealth so poor, its enemies of the commonwealth so rich, its stupendous organization — for the misery of life! Its contempt of simple pleasures which everyone could enjoy but for its folly? Its eyeless vulgarity which has destroyed art, the one certain solace of labour? All this I felt then as now, but I did not know why it was so. The hope of the past times was gone, the struggles of mankind for many ages had produced nothing but this sordid, aimless, ugly confusion.
Love is enough: cherish life that abideth, Lest ye die ere ye know him, and curse and misname him; For who knows in what ruin of all hope he hideth, On what wings of the terror of darkness he rideth? And what is the joy of man's life that ye blame him For his bliss grown a sword, and his rest grown a fire?
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La semplicità di vita, che genera semplicità di gusto, cioè amore per ciò che è dolce e nobile, è fra tutte le cose la più necessaria per far nascere quell'arte nuova e migliore alla quale aspiriamo: semplicità ovunque, nel palazzo come nel cottage.
E ancor più necessari sono ovunque la pulizia e la decenza, nel cottage come nel palazzo; la loro mancanza è infatti un serio aspetto del costume che dovremmo correggere, e assieme a essa tutte le disuguaglianze che esistono nel modo di vivere e il plurisecolare accumularsi dell'incuria e del disordine che ne sono la causa. Ma finora sono ben pochi coloro che hanno cominciato a pensare a un rimedio di portata generale. E non sembra esservi nessuno che tenga conto neppure dell'aspetto più particolare della questione, quel deturpamento delle nostre grandi città provocato da tutto ciò che il commercio si porta dietro, o che cerchi di tenere a freno il loro spaventoso squallore.
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