Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Poems of Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
|401.||Why Do I Love?||4/13/2010|
|402.||Wilt Thou Take Me For Thy Slave?||4/13/2010|
|404.||With Eternity Standing By||4/13/2010|
|406.||Written at Florence||1/4/2003|
|407.||Written At Sea||4/13/2010|
|408.||You Have Let The Beauty Of The Day Go Over||4/13/2010|
|409.||Youth And Knowledge||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;