William Morris

have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.

have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.

O thrush, your song is passing sweet,
But never a song that you have sung
Is half read more

O thrush, your song is passing sweet,
But never a song that you have sung
Is half so sweet as thrushes sang
When my dear love and I were young.

Slayer of the winter, art thou here again?
O welcome, thou that bring'st the summer nigh!
The read more

Slayer of the winter, art thou here again?
O welcome, thou that bring'st the summer nigh!
The bitter wind makes not the victory vain.
Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky.

March: Its stone, Bloodstone.

March: Its stone, Bloodstone.