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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358647" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The House Of Dust: Part 04: 01: Clairvoyant</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'This envelope you say has something in it <br>Which once belonged to your dead son—or something <br>He knew, was fond of? Something he remembers?— <br>The soul flies far, and we can only call it <br>By things like these . . . a photograph, a letter, <br>Ribbon, or charm, or watch . . . ' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">. . . Wind flows softly, the long slow even wind, <br>Over the low roofs white with snow; <br>Wind blows, bearing cold clouds over the ocean, <br>One by one they melt and flow,— </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Streaming one by one over trees and towers, <br>Coiling and gleaming in shafts of sun; <br>Wind flows, bearing clouds; the hurrying shadows <br>Flow under them one by one . . . </div><div style="margin:10px 0">' . . . A spirit darkens before me . . . it is the spirit <br>Which in the flesh you called your son . . . A spirit <br>Young and strong and beautiful . . . </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He says that he is happy, is much honored; <br>Forgives and is forgiven . . . rain and wind <br>Do not perplex him . . . storm and dust forgotten . . <br>The glittering wheels in wheels of time are broken <br>And laid aside . . . ' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ask him why he did the thing he did!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'He is unhappy. This thing, he says, transcends you: <br>Dust cannot hold what shines beyond the dust . . . <br>What seems calamity is less than a sigh; <br>What seems disgrace is nothing.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ask him if the one he hurt is there, <br>And if she loves him still!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'He tells you she is there, and loves him still,— <br>Not as she did, but as all spirits love . . . <br>A cloud of spirits has gathered about him. <br>They praise him and call him, they do him honor; <br>He is more beautiful, he shines upon them.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">. . . Wind flows softly, the long deep tremulous wind, <br>Over the low roofs white with snow . . . <br>Wind flows, bearing dreams; they gather and vanish, <br>One by one they sing and flow; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Over the outstretched lands of days remembered, <br>Over remembered tower and wall, <br>One by one they gather and talk in the darkness, <br>Rise and glimmer and fall . . . </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ask him why he did the thing he did! <br>He knows I will understand!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">  'It is too late: <br>He will not hear me: I have lost my power.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Three times I've asked him! He will never tell me. <br>God have mercy upon him. I will ask no more.'</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=358647" data-title="The House Of Dust: Part 04: 01: Clairvoyant de Conrad Potter Aiken" data-description="'This envelope you say has something in it 
Which once belonged to your dead son—or something 
He knew, was fond of? Something he remembers?— 
The soul flies far, and we can only call it 
By things like these . . . a photograph, a letter, 
Rib..."></div>
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