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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536550" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Desolate City</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">DARK to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens. <br> Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars? <br>Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city. <br> A city taken by storm, where none are left but the slain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sadly I rose at dawn, undid the latch of my shutters, <br> Thinking to let in light, but I only let in love. <br>Birds in the boughs were awake; I listen'd to their chaunting; <br> Each one sang to his love; only I was alone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This, I said in my heart, is the hour of life and of pleasure. <br> Now each creature on earth has his joy, and lives in the sun, <br>Each in another's eyes finds light, the light of compassion, <br> This is the moment of pity, this is the moment of love. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Speak, O desolate city! Speak, O silence in sadness! <br> Where is she that I loved in my strength, that spoke to my soul? <br>Where are those passionate eyes that appeal'd to my eyes in passion? <br> Where is the mouth that kiss'd me, the breast I laid to my own? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Speak, thou soul of my soul, for rage in my heart is kindled. <br> Tell me, where didst thou flee in the day of destruction and fear? <br>See, my arms still enfold thee, enfolding thus all heaven, <br> See, my desire is fulfill'd in thee, for it fills the earth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus in my grief I lamented. Then turn'd I from the window, <br> Turn'd to the stair, and the open door, and the empty street, <br>Crying aloud in my grief, for there was none to chide me, <br> None to mock my weakness, none to behold my tears. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Groping I went, as blind. I sought her house, my beloved's. <br> There I stopp'd at the silent door, and listen'd and tried the <br> latch. <br>Love, I cried, dost thou slumber? This is no hour for slumber, <br> This is the hour of love, and love I bring in my hand. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I knew the house, with its windows barr'd, and its leafless fig-tree, <br> Climbing round by the doorstep, the only one in the street; <br>I knew where my hope had climb'd to its goal and there encircled <br> All that those desolate walls once held, my beloved's heart. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There in my grief she consoled me. She loved me when I loved not. <br> She put her hand in my hand, and set her lips to my lips. <br>She told me all her pain and show'd me all her trouble. <br> I, like a fool, scarce heard, hardly return'd her kiss. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love, thy eyes were like torches. They changed as I beheld them. <br> Love, thy lips were like gems, the seal thou settest on my life. <br>Love, if I loved not then, behold this hour thy vengeance; <br> This is the fruit of thy love and thee, the unwise grown wise. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Weeping strangled my voice. I call'd out, but none answer'd; <br> Blindly the windows gazed back at me, dumbly the door; <br>See whom I love, who loved me, look'd not on my yearning, <br> Gave me no more her hands to kiss, show'd me no more her soul. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Therefore the earth is dark to me, the sunlight blackness, <br> Therefore I go in tears and alone, by night and day; <br>Therefore I find no love in heaven, no light, no beauty, <br> A heaven taken by storm, where none are left but the slain!</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=536550" data-title="The Desolate City de Wilfrid Scawen Blunt" data-description="DARK to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens. Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars? Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city. A city taken by storm, where none are left but t..."></div> </div> </div>
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