The House of Dust; a symphony by Conrad Potter Aiken
page 5 of 106 (04%)
page 5 of 106 (04%)
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Along the darkening road he hurried alone, With his eyes cast down, And thought how the streets were hoarse with a tide of people, With clamor of voices, and numberless faces . . . And it seemed to him, of a sudden, that he would drown Here in the quiet of evening air, These empty and voiceless places . . . And he hurried towards the city, to enter there. Along the darkening road, between tall trees That made a sinister whisper, loudly he walked. Behind him, sea-gulls dipped over long grey seas. Before him, numberless lovers smiled and talked. And death was observed with sudden cries, And birth with laughter and pain. And the trees grew taller and blacker against the skies And night came down again. IV. Up high black walls, up sombre terraces, Clinging like luminous birds to the sides of cliffs, The yellow lights went climbing towards the sky. From high black walls, gleaming vaguely with rain, Each yellow light looked down like a golden eye. They trembled from coign to coign, and tower to tower, Along high terraces quicker than dream they flew. |
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