AMID the desolation of a city, Which was the cradle and is now the grave Of an extinguished people, -- so that pity Weeps o'er the shipwrecks of oblivion's wave, There stands the Tower of Famine. It is built Upon some prison-homes, whose dwellers rave For bread, and gold, and blood; pain, linked to guilt, Agitates the light flame of their hours, Until its vital oil is spent or spilt. There stands the pile, a tower amid the towers And sacred domes, -- each marble-ribbed roof, The brazen-gated temples and the bowers Of solitary wealth; the tempest-proof Pavilions of the dark Italian air Are by its presence dimmed -- they stand aloof, And are withdrawn -- so that the world is bare; As if a spectre, wrapped in shapeless terror, Amid a company of ladies fair Should glide and glow, till it became a mirror Of all their beauty, -- and their hair and hue, The life of their sweet eyes, with all its error, Should be absorbed, till they to marble grew. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MENELAUS AND HELEN by RUPERT BROOKE ON THE DEATH OF A CAT by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE MISTRESS; A SONG by JOHN WILMOT EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 4. THE TIMOROUS ADVENTURER by PHILIP AYRES LINES ON EXODUS 3:14 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |