Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 7, by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT



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A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 7, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Ah, paris, paris! What an echo rings
Last Line: With her broad roads and pleasant paths to hell.


Ah, Paris, Paris! What an echo rings
Still in those syllables of vain delight!
What voice of what dead pleasures on what wings
Of Mænad laughters pulsing through the night!
How bravely her streets smile on me! How bright
Her shops, her houses, fair sepulchral things,
Stored with the sins of men forgotten quite,
The loves of mountebanks, the lusts of kings!
What message has she to me on this day
Of my new life? Shall I, a pilgrim wan,
Sit at her board and revel at her play,
As in the days of old? Nay, this is done.
It cannot be; and yet I love her well
With her broad roads and pleasant paths to Hell.





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