<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536312" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VII</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, Paris, Paris! What an echo rings<br>Still in those syllables of vain delight!<br>What voice of what dead pleasures on what wings<br>Of Maenad laughters pulsing through the night!<br>How bravely her streets smile on me! How bright<br>Her shops, her houses, fair sepulchral things,<br>Stored with the sins of men forgotten quite,<br>The loves of mountebanks, the lusts of kings!<br>What message has she to me on this day<br>Of my new life? Shall I, a pilgrim wan,<br>Sit at her board and revel at her play,<br>As in the days of old? Nay, this is done.<br>It cannot be; and yet I love her well<br>With her broad roads and pleasant paths to Hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</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=536312" data-title="A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VII de Wilfrid Scawen Blunt" data-description="Ah, Paris, Paris! What an echo rings Still in those syllables of vain delight! What voice of what dead pleasures on what wings Of Maenad laughters pulsing through the night! How bravely her streets smile on me! How bright Her shops, her houses, fa..."></div> </div> </div>

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