THE TWINKLING mists of green and gold
Afloat in the abyss of air,
From out the window high and old
    We watched together there.
 

The monstrous fabric of the town
Lay black below; the cries of pain
Came to our ears from up and down
    The dimly-lighted lane.
 

Olive, your eyes were turned to me,
Seeking a soul to sympathise:
I wondered what that glow might be,
    Olive, within your eyes.
 

Into your trembling words there passed
The sorrow that was sighed through you:
Pity, a breath from out the vast,
    From unknown hollows blew.

Added: May 12 2003 | Viewed: 1477 times | Comments (0)

Poet: George William Russell
Poem: 25. 25. Pity
Volume: Collected Poems by A.E.
Year: Published/Written in 1913
Poem of the Day on:
Sep 2 2003
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