No history much? Perhaps. Only this ominous
Dark beauty flowering under veils,
Trapped in the spectrum of read more

No history much? Perhaps. Only this ominous
Dark beauty flowering under veils,
Trapped in the spectrum of a dying style:
A village like an instinct left to rust,
Composed around the echo of a pistol-shot.

Far from gay cities, and the ways of men.

Far from gay cities, and the ways of men.

Seven cities warr'd for Homer being dead,
Who living had no roofe to shroud his head.

Seven cities warr'd for Homer being dead,
Who living had no roofe to shroud his head.

That is the way to lay the city flat,
To bring the roof to the foundation,
And read more

That is the way to lay the city flat,
To bring the roof to the foundation,
And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges,
In heaps and piles of ruin.

Even cities have their graves!

Even cities have their graves!

Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill
cannot be hid.

Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill
cannot be hid.

Towered cities please us then,
And the busy hum of men.

Towered cities please us then,
And the busy hum of men.

Petite ville, grand renom.
Small town, great renown.

Petite ville, grand renom.
Small town, great renown.

I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me; and to me
High read more

I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me; and to me
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
Of human cities torture.