Wilfrid Scawen Blunt (1840 - 1922 / England)
Poems of Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
|1.||A Ballad Of The Heather||4/13/2010|
|2.||A Chaunt In Praise||4/13/2010|
|3.||A Convent Wothout God||4/13/2010|
|4.||A Cuckoo Song||4/13/2010|
|5.||A Day In The Castle Of Envy||4/13/2010|
|6.||A Digit Of The Moon||4/13/2010|
|8.||A Dream Of Good||4/13/2010|
|9.||A Glory Gone||4/13/2010|
|10.||A Lesson In Humility||4/13/2010|
|11.||A Love Secret||4/13/2010|
|12.||A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet I||4/13/2010|
|13.||A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet II||4/13/2010|
|14.||A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet III||4/13/2010|
|15.||A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet IV||4/13/2010|
|16.||A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet IX||4/13/2010|
|17.||A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet V||4/13/2010|
|18.||A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VI||4/13/2010|
|19.||A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VII||4/13/2010|
|20.||A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VIII||4/13/2010|
The Desolate City
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;