The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves The brilliant moon and all the milky sky And all that famous harmony of leaves,Had blotted out man’s image and his cry.

A girl arose that had red mournful lips

And seemed the greatness of the world in tears,Doomed like Odysseus and the labouring ships And proud as Priam murdered with his peers;

Arose, and on the instant clamorous eaves,A climbing moon upon an empty sky,

And all that lamentation of the leaves,

Could but compose man’s image and his cry. AFTEIrmzyGE/UWkKINbMQrnLajLlDvD0n0+PshGDyycPYoBQn7Z5ebN6l0LKBzsT