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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=402929" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Broken Tower</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The bell-rope that gathers God at dawn <br>Dispatches me as though I dropped down the knell <br>Of a spent day - to wander the cathedral lawn <br>From pit to crucifix, feet chill on steps from hell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Have you not heard, have you not seen that corps <br>Of shadows in the tower, whose shoulders sway <br>Antiphonal carillons launched before <br>The stars are caught and hived in the sun's ray? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The bells, I say, the bells break down their tower; <br>And swing I know not where. Their tongues engrave <br>Membrane through marrow, my long-scattered score <br>Of broken intervals… And I, their sexton slave! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oval encyclicals in canyons heaping <br>The impasse high with choir. Banked voices slain! <br>Pagodas campaniles with reveilles out leaping- <br>O terraced echoes prostrate on the plain!… </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so it was I entered the broken world <br>To trace the visionary company of love, its voice <br>An instant in the wind (I know not whither hurled) <br>But not for long to hold each desperate choice. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My world I poured. But was it cognate, scored <br>Of that tribunal monarch of the air <br>Whose thighs embronzes earth, strikes crystal Word <br>In wounds pledges once to hope - cleft to despair? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The steep encroachments of my blood left me <br>No answer (could blood hold such a lofty tower <br>As flings the question true?) -or is it she <br>Whose sweet mortality stirs latent power?- </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And through whose pulse I hear, counting the strokes <br>My veins recall and add, revived and sure <br>The angelus of wars my chest evokes: <br>What I hold healed, original now, and pure… </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And builds, within, a tower that is not stone <br>(Not stone can jacket heaven) - but slip <br>Of pebbles, - visible wings of silence sown <br>In azure circles, widening as they dip </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The matrix of the heart, lift down the eyes <br>That shrines the quiet lake and swells a tower… <br>The commodious, tall decorum of that sky <br>Unseals her earth, and lifts love in its shower.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Harold+Hart+Crane">Harold Hart Crane</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=402929" data-title="The Broken Tower de Harold Hart Crane" data-description="The bell-rope that gathers God at dawn 
Dispatches me as though I dropped down the knell 
Of a spent day - to wander the cathedral lawn 
From pit to crucifix, feet chill on steps from hell. 

Have you not heard, have you not seen that corps 
Of sh..."></div>
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