<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358627" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The House Of Dust: Part 02: 05: Retrospect</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Round white clouds roll slowly above the housetops,<br>Over the clear red roofs they flow and pass.<br>A flock of pigeons rises with blue wings flashing,<br>Rises with whistle of wings, hovers an instant,<br>And settles slowly again on the tarnished grass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And one old man looks down from a dusty window<br>And sees the pigeons circling about the fountain<br>And desires once more to walk among those trees.<br>Lovers walk in the noontime by that fountain.<br>Pigeons dip their beaks to drink from the water.<br>And soon the pond must freeze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The light wind blows to his ears a sound of laughter,<br>Young men shuffle their feet, loaf in the sunlight;<br>A girl's laugh rings like a silver bell.<br>But clearer than all these sounds is a sound he hears<br>More in his secret heart than in his ears,&mdash;<br>A hammer's steady crescendo, like a knell.<br>He hears the snarl of pineboards under the plane,<br>The rhythmic saw, and then the hammer again,&mdash;<br>Playing with delicate strokes that sombre scale . . .<br>And the fountain dwindles, the sunlight seems to pale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Time is a dream, he thinks, a destroying dream;<br>It lays great cities in dust, it fills the seas;<br>It covers the face of beauty, and tumbles walls.<br>Where was the woman he loved? Where was his youth?<br>Where was the dream that burned his brain like fire?<br>Even a dream grows grey at last and falls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He opened his book once more, beside the window,<br>And read the printed words upon that page.<br>The sunlight touched his hand; his eyes moved slowly,<br>The quiet words enchanted time and age.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Death is never an ending, death is a change;<br>Death is beautiful, for death is strange;<br>Death is one dream out of another flowing;<br>Death is a chorded music, softly going<br>By sweet transition from key to richer key.<br>Death is a meeting place of sea and sea.'</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=358627" data-title="The House Of Dust: Part 02: 05: Retrospect de Conrad Potter Aiken" data-description="Round white clouds roll slowly above the housetops, Over the clear red roofs they flow and pass. A flock of pigeons rises with blue wings flashing, Rises with whistle of wings, hovers an instant, And settles slowly again on the tarnished grass. A..."></div> </div> </div>

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