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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358629" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The House Of Dust: Part 02: 07: Two Lovers: Overtones</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Two lovers, here at the corner, by the steeple,<br>Two lovers blow together like music blowing:<br>And the crowd dissolves about them like a sea.<br>Recurring waves of sound break vaguely about them,<br>They drift from wall to wall, from tree to tree.<br>'Well, am I late?' Upward they look and laugh,<br>They look at the great clock's golden hands,<br>They laugh and talk, not knowing what they say:<br>Only, their words like music seem to play;<br>And seeming to walk, they tread strange sarabands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I brought you this . . . ' the soft words float like stars<br>Down the smooth heaven of her memory.<br>She stands again by a garden wall,<br>The peach tree is in bloom, pink blossoms fall,<br>Water sings from an opened tap, the bees<br>Glisten and murmur among the trees.<br>Someone calls from the house. She does not answer.<br>Backward she leans her head,<br>And dreamily smiles at the peach-tree leaves, wherethrough<br>She sees an infinite May sky spread<br>A vault profoundly blue.<br>The voice from the house fades far away,<br>The glistening leaves more vaguely ripple and sway . .<br>The tap is closed, the water ceases to hiss . . .<br>Silence . . . blue sky . . . and then, 'I brought you this . . . '<br>She turns again, and smiles . . . He does not know<br>She smiles from long ago . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She turns to him and smiles . . . Sunlight above him<br>Roars like a vast invisible sea,<br>Gold is beaten before him, shrill bells of silver;<br>He is released of weight, his body is free,<br>He lifts his arms to swim,<br>Dark years like sinister tides coil under him . . .<br>The lazy sea-waves crumble along the beach<br>With a whirring sound like wind in bells,<br>He lies outstretched on the yellow wind-worn sands<br>Reaching his lazy hands<br>Among the golden grains and sea-white shells . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'One white rose . . . or is it pink, to-day?'<br>They pause and smile, not caring what they say,<br>If only they may talk.<br>The crowd flows past them like dividing waters.<br>Dreaming they stand, dreaming they walk.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Pink,—to-day!'—Face turns to dream-bright face,<br>Green leaves rise round them, sunshine settles upon them,<br>Water, in drops of silver, falls from the rose.<br>She smiles at a face that smiles through leaves from the mirror.<br>She breathes the fragrance; her dark eyes close . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Time is dissolved, it blows like a little dust:<br>Time, like a flurry of rain,<br>Patters and passes, starring the window-pane.<br>Once, long ago, one night,<br>She saw the lightning, with long blue quiver of light,<br>Ripping the darkness . . . and as she turned in terror<br>A soft face leaned above her, leaned softly down,<br>Softly around her a breath of roses was blown,<br>She sank in waves of quiet, she seemed to float<br>In a sea of silence . . . and soft steps grew remote . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Well, let us walk in the park . . . The sun is warm,<br>We'll sit on a bench and talk . . .' They turn and glide,<br>The crowd of faces wavers and breaks and flows.<br>'Look how the oak-tops turn to gold in the sunlight!<br>Look how the tower is changed and glows!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Two lovers move in the crowd like a link of music,<br>We press upon them, we hold them, and let them pass;<br>A chord of music strikes us and straight we tremble;<br>We tremble like wind-blown grass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What was this dream we had, a dream of music,<br>Music that rose from the opening earth like magic<br>And shook its beauty upon us and died away?<br>The long cold streets extend once more before us.<br>The red sun drops, the walls grow grey.</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=358629" data-title="The House Of Dust: Part 02: 07: Two Lovers: Overtones de Conrad Potter Aiken" data-description="Two lovers, here at the corner, by the steeple, Two lovers blow together like music blowing: And the crowd dissolves about them like a sea. Recurring waves of sound break vaguely about them, They drift from wall to wall, from tree to tree. 'Well, ..."></div> </div> </div>
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