Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

(1840 - 1922 / England)

Poems of Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

401. Why Do I Love? 4/13/2010
402. Wilt Thou Take Me For Thy Slave? 4/13/2010
403. With Esther 1/4/2003
404. With Eternity Standing By 4/13/2010
405. Worth Forest 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
410. Zoheyr 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;

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