The House of Dust; a symphony

Conrad Potter Aiken

Capitolo 59

Far street their footsteps.  He knows that they will never return.

Far street--on a dark and smooth road--he weakly feels them.
The road as a dark river that it quietly flows,
Moved among murmuring walls.  A deeper breath
Swollen them to play:  he feels more clearly his/her footsteps.
It is dead it seems more neighbor to him:  or him to death.

Which is it dead?--You smile.  The fresh stone hurts its elbows.
The last of the rain-drops gathers and they falls from elm-branches,
You see them shine and it break.  The arc-lamp sings,
The new leaves bathe in the warm bathed air and the fragrance.
A flutters of sparrow to the eaves, and it shakes his/her wings.

Which is it dead--what is dead?  The spring returns as music,
The trees are as fallen in love dark that dream in light of the stars,
The grey and soft clouds go on the stars as you dream.
The fresh wounds of stone his/her arm to grieve, to like.
Under the lamp a circle of wet street glints. . . .
It is dead it seems far street a thing of roses,,
A gilded portal, where gilded music closes,
Death seems far street:
It is spring he/she returns, the innumerable one that sings of persons in love,
It is spring he/she returns for being. . . .

Him, in the room old on, adult and tired,
Throwing him on the bed, affronts down, in laughter,
And it shakes his/her hands, and he/she remembers, and it desires to die.
And her, from the window it smiles to a night of light of the stars.
. . .  The grey and soft clouds slowly go through the sky.


V. THE BITTER LOVE-SONG

No, I won't say me because it is that me The hook--
Because he/she asks to me, safe for the vanity?
You would not certainly have me, as a mirror,
Says 'yes,--your hair has been curling back darkly for the times,
Your mouth has a humorous sweetness, trembling, mean-timid,
Your eyes are grey April. . . .with jonquils in them?'
No, if I tell everybody, I will tell silence. . .
I will say me--my infancy penetrated in ropes of music
--Or were they ropes of sun?--where it demolished shades,
Or silences;  I of rose through seas of light of the sun;
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