These streets have such a tranquil, languid gait (as convalescents, moving thoughtfully, Wonder: is this the way it used to be?), and those that reach the squares linger to wait for one that passes with a single stride across the waters the clear dusk has dyed, wherein, as things grow mellowed and impearled, the clearer shines a mirror-imaged world, more real than things substantial ever were. Has not this city vanished? Oh, look there, (as if through some unfathomable law) transposed, in those blank depths it lies, defined, as though life there were of a wonted kind; hugely the luminous gardens hang, enshrined, and suddenly the dance coils there, behind the lighted windows of the hostelries. And overhead?—The silence, indolent, leans, slowly crushing sweetness on her tongue: grape upon fragrant grape, from luculent clusters of chimes in the far heavens hung. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT THE WEDDING MARCH by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS UPON THE DEATH OF SIR ALBERT MORTON'S WIFE by MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS EROS TURANNOS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 38. AL-KABIR by EDWIN ARNOLD PORTRAIT SONNETS: 3 by HENRY BELLAMANN THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: THE DEATH OF KING HACON by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |