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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=410170" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Cities</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Can we believe -- by an effort <br>comfort our hearts: <br>it is not waste all this, <br>not placed here in disgust, <br>street after street, <br>each patterned alike, <br>no grace to lighten <br>a single house of the hundred <br>crowded into one garden-space. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Crowded -- can we believe, <br>not in utter disgust, <br>in ironical play -- <br>but the maker of cities grew faint <br>with the beauty of temple <br>and space before temple, <br>arch upon perfect arch, <br>of pillars and corridors that led out <br>to strange court-yards and porches <br>where sun-light stamped <br>hyacinth-shadows <br>black on the pavement. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That the maker of cities grew faint <br>with the splendour of palaces, <br>paused while the incense-flowers <br>from the incense-trees <br>dropped on the marble-walk, <br>thought anew, fashioned this -- <br>street after street alike. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For alas, <br>he had crowded the city so full <br>that men could not grasp beauty, <br>beauty was over them, <br>through them, about them, <br>no crevice unpacked with the honey, <br>rare, measureless. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So he built a new city, <br>ah can we believe, not ironically <br>but for new splendour <br>constructed new people <br>to lift through slow growth <br>to a beauty unrivalled yet -- <br>and created new cells, <br>hideous first, hideous now -- <br>spread larve across them, <br>not honey but seething life. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in these dark cells, <br>packed street after street, <br>souls live, hideous yet -- <br>O disfigured, defaced, <br>with no trace of the beauty <br>men once held so light. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Can we think a few old cells <br>were left -- we are left -- <br>grains of honey, <br>old dust of stray pollen <br>dull on our torn wings, <br>we are left to recall the old streets? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is our task the less sweet <br>that the larve still sleep in their cells? <br>Or crawl out to attack our frail strength: <br>You are useless. We live. <br>We await great events. <br>We are spread through this earth. <br>We protect our strong race. <br>You are useless. <br>Your cell takes the place <br>of our young future strength. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though they sleep or wake to torment <br>and wish to displace our old cells -- <br>thin rare gold -- <br>that their larve grow fat -- <br>is our task the less sweet? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though we wander about, <br>find no honey of flowers in this waste, <br>is our task the less sweet -- <br>who recall the old splendour, <br>await the new beauty of cities? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The city is peopled <br>with spirits, not ghosts, O my love: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though they crowded between <br>and usurped the kiss of my mouth <br>their breath was your gift, <br>their beauty, your life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Hilda+Doolittle">Hilda Doolittle</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=410170" data-title="Cities de Hilda Doolittle" data-description="Can we believe -- by an effort 
comfort our hearts: 
it is not waste all this, 
not placed here in disgust, 
street after street, 
each patterned alike, 
no grace to lighten 
a single house of the hundred 
crowded into one garden-space. 

Crowded ..."></div>
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