Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

STRANGER; TO WILL ROTHENSTEIN by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON

Poem Explanation Poet Analysis

First Line: HER FACE WAS LIKE SAD THINGS: WAS LIKE THE LIGHTS
Last Line: WITH US, HER PASSING IMAGE: BUT HERSELF %FAR OVER THE DARK HILLS AND THE LONG SEA
Her face was like sad things: was like the lights

Of a great city, seen from far off fields,

Or seen from sea: sad things, as are the fires
Her face was like sad things: was like the lights
Lit in a land of furnaces by night:
Of a great city, seen from far off fields,
Sad things, as are the reaches of a stream
Or seen from sea: sad things, as are the fires
Flowing beneath a golden moon alone.
Lit in a land of furnaces by night:
And her clear voice, full of remembrances,
Sad things, as are the reaches of a stream
Came like faint music down the distant air.
Flowing beneath a golden moon alone.
As though she had a spirit of dead joy
And her clear voice, full of remembrances,
About her, looked the sorrow of her ways:
Came like faint music down the distant air.
If light there be, the dark hills are to climb
As though she had a spirit of dead joy
First: and if calm, far over the long sea.
About her, looked the sorrow of her ways:
Fallen from all the world apart she seemed,
If light there be, the dark hills are to climb
Into a silence and a memory.
First: and if calm, far over the long sea.
What had the thin hands done, that now they strained
Fallen from all the world apart she seemed,
Together in such passion? And those eyes,
Into a silence and a memory.
What saw they long ago, that now they dreamed
What had the thin hands done, that now they strained
Along the busy streets, blind but to dreams?
Together in such passion? And those eyes,
Her white lips mocked the world, and all therein:
What saw they long ago, that now they dreamed
She had known more than this; she wanted not
Along the busy streets, blind but to dreams?
This, who had known the past so great a thing.
Her white lips mocked the world, and all therein:
Moving about our ways, herself she moved
She had known more than this; she wanted not
In things done, years remembered, places gone.
This, who had known the past so great a thing.
Lonely, amid the living crowds, as dead,
Moving about our ways, herself she moved
She walked with wonderful and sad regard:
In things done, years remembered, places gone.
With us, her passing image: but herself
Lonely, amid the living crowds, as dead,
Far over the dark hills and the long sea.
She walked with wonderful and sad regard:
-1889
With us, her passing image: but herself

Far over the dark hills and the long sea.





Home: PoetryExplorer.net