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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408342" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Kiama Revisited</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WE STOOD by the window and hearkened<br>To the voice of the runnels sea-driven,<br>While, northward, the mountain-heads darkened,<br>Girt round with the clamours of heaven.<br>One peak with the storm at his portal<br>Loomed out to the left of his brothers:<br>Sustained, and sublime, and immortal,<br>A king, and the lord of the others!<br>Beneath him a cry from the surges<br>Rang shrill, like a clarion calling;<br>And about him, the wind of the gorges<br>Went falling, and rising, and falling.<br>But I, as the roofs of the thunder<br>Were cloven with manifold fires,<br>Turned back from the wail and the wonder,<br>And dreamed of old days and desires.<br>A song that was made, I remembered—<br>A song that was made in the gloaming<br>Of suns which are sunken and numbered<br>With times that my heart hath no home in.<br>But I said to my Dream, “I am calmer<br>Than waters asleep on the river.<br>I can look at the hills of Kiama<br>And bury that dead Past for ever.”<br>“Past sight, out of mind, alienated,”<br>Said the Dream to me, wearily sighing,<br>“Ah, where is the Winter you mated<br>To Love, its decline and its dying?<br>Here, five years ago, there were places<br>That knew of her cunning to grieve you,<br>But alas! for her eyes and her graces;<br>And wherefore and how did she leave you!<br>Have you hidden the ways of this Woman,<br>Her whispers, her glances, her power<br>To hold you, as demon holds human,<br>Chained back to the day and the hour?<br>Say, where have you buried her sweetness,<br>Her coldness for youth and its yearning?<br>Is the sleep of your Sorrow a witness<br>She is passed all the roads of returning?<br>Was she left with her beauty, O lover,<br>And the shreds of your passion about her,<br>Beyond reach and where none can discover?<br>Ah! what is the wide world without her?”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I answered, “Behold, I was broken,<br>Because of this bright, bitter maiden,<br>Who helped me with never a token<br>To beat down the dark I had strayed in.<br>She knew that my soul was entangled<br>By what was too fiery to bear then;<br>Nor cared how she withered and strangled<br>My life with her eyes and her hair then.<br>But I have not leapt to the level<br>Where light and the shadows dissever?<br>She is fair, but a beautiful devil<br>That I have forgotten for ever!”<br>“She is sweeter than music or singing,”<br>Said the Dream to me, heavily moaning,<br>“Her voice in your slumber is ringing;<br>And where is the end—the atoning?<br>Can you look at the red of the roses;<br>Are you friend of the fields and the flowers?<br>Can you bear the faint day as it closes<br>And dies into twilighted hours?<br>Do you love the low notes of the ballad<br>She sang in her darling old fashion?”<br>And I whispered, “O Dream, I am pallid<br>And perished because of my passion.”<br>But the Wraith withered out, and the rifted<br>Gray hills gleaming over the granges,<br>Stood robed with moon-rainbows that shifted<br>And shimmered resplendent with changes!<br>While, for the dim ocean ledges,<br>The storm and the surges were blended,<br>Sheer down the bluff sides of the ridges<br>Spent winds and the waters descended.<br>The forests, the crags, and the forelands,<br>Grew sweet with the stars after raining;<br>But out in the north-lying moorlands,<br>I heard the lone plover complaining.<br>From these to Kiama, half-hidden<br>In a yellow sea-mist on the slopings<br>Of hills, by the torrents be-ridden,<br>I turned with my aches and my hopings,<br>Saying this—“There are those that are taken<br>By Fate to wear Love as a raiment<br>Whose texture is trouble with breaking<br>Of youth and no hope of repayment.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Kendall">Henry Kendall</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=408342" data-title="Kiama Revisited de Henry Kendall" data-description="WE STOOD by the window and hearkened
To the voice of the runnels sea-driven,
While, northward, the mountain-heads darkened,
Girt round with the clamours of heaven.
One peak with the storm at his portal
Loomed out to the left of his brothers:
Susta..."></div>
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