I SAW a weird procession glide along The vestibule before the Lion's gate; A Man of godlike limb and warrior state, Who never looked behind him, led the throng; Next a pale Girl, singing sweet sorrow, met My eyes, who ever pointed to a fleck Of ingrained crimson on her marble neck; Her a fierce Woman, armed with knife and net, Close followed, whom a Youth pursued with smile, Once mild, now bitter-mad, himself the while Pursued by three foul Shapes, gory and grey: Dread family! ... I saw another day The phantom of that Youth, sitting alone, Quiet, thought-bound, a stone upon a stone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VILLAIN by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE HOUSE-TOP; A NIGHT PIECE by HERMAN MELVILLE WHICH WAS MOST TRULY DEAD? by CHARLES AUGUSTIN SAINTE-BEUVE A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN by ALFRED TENNYSON AN INSCRIPTION by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT DAPHNE; FOR GRAHAM ROBERTSON by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE BOUT by EVARISTE BOULAY-PATY THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: AT HOME AFTER THE BALL by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |