His heart to me, was a place of palaces and pinnacles and shining towers;
I saw it then as we see things in dreams,--I do not remember how long I slept;
I remember the tress, and the high, white walls, and how the sun was always on the
towers;
The walls are standing to-day, and the gates; I have been through the gates, I have
groped, I have crept
Back, back. There is dust in the streets, and blood; they are empty; darkness is over
them;
His heart is a place with the lights gone out, forsaken by great winds and the heavenly
rain, unclean and unswept,
Like the heart of the holy city, old blind, beautiful Jerusalem;
Over which Christ wept
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Comments1This piece resonates with heartbreaking depth. It beautifully and mournfully captures the tragic process of love lost and the desolation that ensues. I found the vivid imagery used to depict the transition from majesty to ruin incredibly evocative. The ending, linking to a poignant historical reference, imbued the whole poem with even more sorrow. Truly, a deeply moving work.