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
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
Birds in the boughs were awake; I listend to their chaunting;
Each one sang to his love; only I was
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 anothers eyes finds light, the light of compassion,
This is the moment
of pity, this is the moment of love.
Speak, O desolate city! Speak, O silence in sadness!
Where is she that I loved in my strength,
that spoke to my
Where are those passionate eyes that appeald to my eyes in
is the mouth that kissd me, the breast I laid to my own?
Speak, thou soul of my soul, for rage in my heart is kindled.
Tell me, where didst thou flee in
the day of destruction
See, my arms still enfold thee, enfolding thus all heaven,
See, my desire
is fulfilld in thee, for it fills the earth.
Thus in my grief I lamented. Then turnd I from the
Turnd to the stair, and the open
door, and the empty
Crying aloud in my grief, for there was none to chide me,
None to mock my
weakness, none to behold my tears.
Groping I went, as blind. I sought her house, my belovàeds.
There I stoppd at the silent door,
and listend and tried
nbsp; the latch.
Love, I cried, dost thou slumber? This is no hour for
the hour of love, and love I bring in my hand.
I knew the house, with its windows barrd, and its leafless
Climbing round by the doorstep
the only one in the street;
I knew where my hope had climbd to its goal and there
All that those
desolate walls once held, my belovàeds heart.
There in my grief she consoled me. She loved me when I
She put her hand in my
hand, and set her lips to my lips.
She told me all her pain and showd me all her trouble.
I, like a fool,
scarce heard, hardly returnd her kiss.
Love, thy eyes were like torches. They changed as I beheld
Love, thy lips were like
gems, the seal thou settest on my
Love, if I loved not then, behold this hour thy vengeance;
the fruit of thy love and thee, the unwise grown
Weeping strangled my voice. I calld out, but none answerd;
Blindly the windows gazed back
at me, dumbly the door;
She whom I love, who loved me, lookd not on my yearning,
Gave me no more
her hands to kiss, showd me no more
Therefore the earth is dark to me, the sunlight blackness,
Therefore I go in tears and alone,
by night and day;
Therefore I find no love in heaven, no light, no beauty,
A heaven taken by storm where
none are left but the slain!
HE who has once been happy is for aye
Out of destructions reach. His fortune then
nothing secret; and Eternity,
Which is a mystery to other men,
Has like a woman given him its joy.