The Desolate City|
by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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 the slain.
Sadly I rose at dawn, undid the latch of my shutters,
...Thinking to let in light, but I only let in love.
Birds in the boughs were awake; I listen'd to their chaunting;
...Each one sang to his love; only I was alone.
This, I said in my heart, is the hour of life and of pleasure.
...Now each creature on earth has his joy, and lives in the sun,
Each in another's eyes finds light, the light of compassion,
...This is the moment of pity, this is the moment of love.
.....from The Desolate City by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt (1840-1922)