Shadows (Howe)/To William Morris

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TO WILLIAM MORRIS.
THY luckless wanderers, Poet, sought
Of timeless ease, where aye the fields are green,
Where flowers know not the touch of winter's hand,
And hills and valleys glow in changeless sheen,
Where age can never come, and love is queen.
World-worn we too seek peace and sun-lit skies,
And find—thy book an Earthly Paradise

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