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| TO JAMES THOMSON, AUTHOR OF “THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT.” |
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 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
332
TO JAMES THOMSON, AUTHOR OF “THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT.”
I.
Brother, and fellow-citizen with me
Of this great city whose tremendous gloom
Weighed on thee with the heaviness of doom,—
I walk its ways to-day, and seem to see
Thy saddest eyes; again with thee to be
As on that day when, in this very room,
Thine eyes and ours who watched thee saw Death loom,
A mighty monarch, strong to set thee free.
Of this great city whose tremendous gloom
Weighed on thee with the heaviness of doom,—
I walk its ways to-day, and seem to see
Thy saddest eyes; again with thee to be
As on that day when, in this very room,
Thine eyes and ours who watched thee saw Death loom,
A mighty monarch, strong to set thee free.
Still, still the same, this “City of Dreadful Night,”—
Still does it hear a sound of lamentation,
As of a conquered. broken-hearted nation;
Still glowers the Sphinx, and breaks us with her might
Of unresponsive front. There is no light;
There is no hope; God, there is no salvation.
Still does it hear a sound of lamentation,
As of a conquered. broken-hearted nation;
Still glowers the Sphinx, and breaks us with her might
Of unresponsive front. There is no light;
There is no hope; God, there is no salvation.
II.
No tears of mine shall fall upon thy face;
Whatever City thou hast gained, at last,
Better it is than that where thy feet passed
So many times, such weary nights and days.
Those journeying feet knew all its inmost ways;
Where shapes and shadows of dread things were cast,
There moved thy soul, profoundly dark and vast,
There did thy voice its hymn of anguish raise.
Whatever City thou hast gained, at last,
Better it is than that where thy feet passed
So many times, such weary nights and days.
Those journeying feet knew all its inmost ways;
Where shapes and shadows of dread things were cast,
There moved thy soul, profoundly dark and vast,
There did thy voice its hymn of anguish raise.
Thou wouldst have left that City of great Night,
Yet travelled its dark mazes, all in vain;
But one way leads from it, which found aright,
Who goes by it may not return again.
There didst thou grope thy way, through thy long pain;
Hast thou, outside, found any world of light?
Yet travelled its dark mazes, all in vain;
But one way leads from it, which found aright,
Who goes by it may not return again.
There didst thou grope thy way, through thy long pain;
Hast thou, outside, found any world of light?
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |