William Morris

William Morris
William Morris was a 19th-century British textile designer, poet, novelist, and socialist activist, known for his significant contributions to the Arts and Crafts Movement. He founded the design firm Morris & Co., which produced a wide range of decorative arts, including textiles, wallpaper, and furniture, characterized by intricate patterns and craftsmanship. Morris was also a prolific writer, with works like the utopian novel "News from Nowhere" reflecting his socialist ideals and vision for a society based on communal living and environmental harmony.

Author's Books:

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CHAPTER I Sometimes I am rewarded for fretting myself so much about present matters by a quite unasked-for pleasant dream. I mean when I am asleep. This dream is as it were a present of an architectural peep-show. I see some beautiful and noble building new made, as it were for the occasion, as clearly as if I were awake; not vaguely or absurdly, as often happens in dreams, but with all the detail... more...

CHAPTER I: OF THOSE THREE WHO CAME TO THE HOUSE OF THE RAVEN It has been told that there was once a young man of free kindred and whose name was Hallblithe: he was fair, strong, and not untried in battle; he was of the House of the Raven of old time. This man loved an exceeding fair damsel called the Hostage, who was of the House of the Rose, wherein it was right and due that the men of the Raven... more...

MAY. O love, this morn when the sweet nightingaleHad so long finished all he had to say,That thou hadst slept, and sleep had told his tale;And midst a peaceful dream had stolen awayIn fragrant dawning of the first of May,Didst thou see aught? didst thou hear voices singEre to the risen sun the bells 'gan ring? For then methought the Lord of Love went byTo take possession of his flowery... more...

HERE BEGIN POEMS BY THE WAY.WRITTEN BY WILLIAM MORRIS.AND FIRST IS THE POEM CALLEDFROM THE UPLAND TO THE SEA. Shall we wake one morn of spring,Glad at heart of everything,Yet pensive with the thought of eve?Then the white house shall we leave,Pass the wind-flowers and the bays,Through the garth, and go our ways,Wandering down among the meadsTill our very joyance needsRest at last; till we shall comeTo... more...

FROM THE UPLAND TO THE SEAShall we wake one morn of spring,Glad at heart of everything,Yet pensive with the thought of eve?Then the white house shall we leave.Pass the wind-flowers and the bays,Through the garth, and go our ways,Wandering down among the meadsTill our very joyance needsRest at last; till we shall comeTo that Sun-god's lonely home,Lonely on the hillside grey,Whence the sheep have... more...

PART I. SCENE.—A Court of Justice. Usher, Clerk of the Court, Mr. Hungary, Q.C., and others.  Mr. La-di-da, the prisoner, not in the dock, but seated in a chair before it.  [Enter Mr. Justice Nupkins. Usher.  Silence!—silence! Mr. Justice Nupkins.  Prisoner at the bar, you have been found guilty by a jury, after a very long and careful consideration of your remarkable and strange case, of a... more...

CHAPTER I: DISCUSSION AND BED Up at the League, says a friend, there had been one night a brisk conversational discussion, as to what would happen on the Morrow of the Revolution, finally shading off into a vigorous statement by various friends of their views on the future of the fully-developed new society. Says our friend: Considering the subject, the discussion was good-tempered; for those present... more...

CHAPTER I: OF GOLDEN WALTER AND HIS FATHER Awhile ago there was a young man dwelling in a great and goodly city by the sea which had to name Langton on Holm.   He was but of five and twenty winters, a fair-faced man, yellow-haired, tall and strong; rather wiser than foolisher than young men are mostly wont; a valiant youth, and a kind; not of many words but courteous of speech; no roisterer, nought... more...

STRUGGLING IN THE WORLD. Do you know where it is -- the Hollow Land? I have been looking for it now so long, trying to find it again the Hollow Land for there I saw my love first. I wish to tell you how I found it first of all; but I am old, my memory fails me: you must wait and let me think if I perchance can tell you how it happened. Yea, in my ears is a confused noise of trumpet-blasts singing over... more...

CHAPTER I—THE DWELLINGS OF MID-MARK The tale tells that in times long past there was a dwelling of men beside a great wood.  Before it lay a plain, not very great, but which was, as it were, an isle in the sea of woodland, since even when you stood on the flat ground, you could see trees everywhere in the offing, though as for hills, you could scarce say that there were any; only swellings-up of the... more...

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