Explore "Drawing Near the Light" by William Morris on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Lo, when we wade the tangled wood, / In haste and hurry to be there, / Nought seem its leaves and blossoms good, / For all that they be fashioned fair.
But looking up, at last we see / The glimmer of the open light, / From o'er the place where we would be: / Then grow the very brambles bright.
So now, amidst our day of strife, / With many a matter glad we play, / When once we see the light of life / Gleam through the tangle of to-day.