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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358619" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain . . . <br>It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls <br>Down golden-windowed walls. <br>We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain, <br>We do not remember the red roots whence we rose, <br>But we know that we rose and walked, that after a while <br>We shall lie down again. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The snow floats down upon us, we turn, we turn, <br>Through gorges filled with light we sound and flow . . . <br>One is struck down and hurt, we crowd about him, <br>We bear him away, gaze after his listless body; <br>But whether he lives or dies we do not know. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">One of us sings in the street, and we listen to him; <br>The words ring over us like vague bells of sorrow. <br>He sings of a house he lived in long ago. <br>It is strange; this house of dust was the house I lived in; <br>The house you lived in, the house that all of us know. <br>And coiling slowly about him, and laughing at him, <br>And throwing him pennies, we bear away <br>A mournful echo of other times and places, <br>And follow a dream . . . a dream that will not stay. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Down long broad flights of lamplit stairs we flow; <br>Noisy, in scattered waves, crowding and shouting; <br>In broken slow cascades. <br>The gardens extend before us . . . We spread out swiftly; <br>Trees are above us, and darkness. The canyon fades . . . </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And we recall, with a gleaming stab of sadness, <br>Vaguely and incoherently, some dream <br>Of a world we came from, a world of sun-blue hills . . . <br>A black wood whispers around us, green eyes gleam; <br>Someone cries in the forest, and someone kills. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We flow to the east, to the white-lined shivering sea; <br>We reach to the west, where the whirling sun went down; <br>We close our eyes to music in bright cafes. <br>We diverge from clamorous streets to streets that are silent. <br>We loaf where the wind-spilled fountain plays. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, growing tired, we turn aside at last, <br>Remember our secret selves, seek out our towers, <br>Lay weary hands on the banisters, and climb; <br>Climbing, each, to his little four-square dream <br>Of love or lust or beauty or death or crime.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Conrad+Potter+Aiken">Conrad Potter Aiken</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358619" data-title="The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain de Conrad Potter Aiken" data-description="The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain . . . 
It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls 
Down golden-windowed walls. 
We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain, 
We do not remember the red roots whence we rose, 
But we know that we..."></div>
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