Wilfrid Scawen Blunt (1840 - 1922 / England)
Poems of Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
|82.||At A Funeral||4/13/2010|
|83.||At The Gate||4/13/2010|
|84.||At The Parting Of The Ways||4/13/2010|
|85.||Body And Soul: A Metaphysical Argument||4/13/2010|
|88.||Come With The Summer Leaves||4/13/2010|
|91.||Couplets In Praise||4/13/2010|
|93.||Death In A Ball-Room||4/13/2010|
|94.||Don Juan’s Good-Night||4/13/2010|
|96.||Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: I||4/13/2010|
|97.||Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: II||4/13/2010|
|98.||Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: III||4/13/2010|
|99.||Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: IV||4/13/2010|
|100.||Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: IX||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;