Tuesday, September 27, 2016

[ The Seventh Cloud ] Album - Page 2



 I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; 
 That only men incredulous of despair, 
 Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air 
 Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access 
 Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness, 
 In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare 
 Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare 
 Of the absolute heavens. 
Deep-hearted man, express Grief for thy dead in silence like to death 
— Most like a monumental statue set 
 In everlasting watch and moveless woe 
 Till itself crumble to the dust beneath. 
 Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet: 
 If it could weep, it could arise and go.

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