IN THE WHITE-FLOWERED HAWTHORN BRAKE

William Morris (1834–96) SONG.

SHE   In the white-flower’d hawthorn brake, Love, be merry for my sake; Twine the blossoms in my hair, Kiss me where I am most fair— Kiss me, love! for who knoweth         5 What thing cometh after death? HE   Nay, the garlanded gold hair Hides thee where thou art most fair; Hides the rose-tinged hills of snow— Ah, sweet love, I have thee now!         10 Kiss me, love! for who knoweth What thing cometh after death? SHE   Shall we weep for a dead day, Or set Sorrow in our way? Hidden by my golden hair,         15 Wilt thou weep that sweet days wear? Kiss me, love! for who knoweth What thing cometh after death? HE Weep, O Love, the days that flit,   Now, while I can feel thy breath;         20 Then may I remember it   Sad and old, and near my death. Kiss me, love! for who knoweth What thing cometh after death?