Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/39

 A man sits nodding on the shaft or trudges Three parts asleep beside his fellow-drudges: And so it rolls into the night again.

What merchandise? whence, whither, and for whom? Perchance it is a Fate-appointed hearse, Bearing away to some mysterious tomb Or Limbo of the scornful universe The joy, the peace, the life-hope, the abortions Of all things good which should have been our portions, But have been strangled by that City's curse.

The mansion stood apart in its own ground; In front thereof a fragrant garden-lawn, High trees about it, and the whole walled round: The massy iron gates were both withdrawn; And every window of its front shed light, Portentous in that City of the Night.

But though thus lighted it was deadly still As all the countless bulks of solid gloom: Perchance a congregation to fulfil Solemnities of silence in this doom,