The House of Dust; a symphony by Conrad Potter Aiken
page 15 of 106 (14%)
page 15 of 106 (14%)
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And those whom sleep eludes lie wide-eyed, hearing Above their heads a goblin night go by; Children are waked, and cry, The young girl hears the roar in her sleep, and dreams That her lover is caught in a burning tower, She clutches the pillow, she gasps for breath, she screams . . . And then by degrees her breath grows quiet and slow, She dreams of an evening, long ago: Of colored lanterns balancing under trees, Some of them softly catching afire; And beneath the lanterns a motionless face she sees, Golden with lamplight, smiling, serene . . . The leaves are a pale and glittering green, The sound of horns blows over the trampled grass, Shadows of dancers pass . . . The face smiles closer to hers, she tries to lean Backward, away, the eyes burn close and strange, The face is beginning to change,-- It is her lover, she no longer desires to resist, She is held and kissed. She closes her eyes, and melts in a seethe of flame . . . With a smoking ghost of shame . . . Wind, wind, wind . . . Wind in an enormous brain Blowing dark thoughts like fallen leaves . . . The wind shrieks, the wind grieves; It dashes the leaves on walls, it whirls then again; And the enormous sleeper vaguely and stupidly dreams And desires to stir, to resist a ghost of pain. |
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