Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.


The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The snow floats down upon us mingled with rain

by
 The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain .
.
.
It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls Down golden-windowed walls.
We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain, We do not remember the red roots whence we rose, But we know that we rose and walked, that after a while We shall lie down again.
The snow floats down upon us, we turn, we turn, Through gorges filled with light we sound and flow .
.
.
One is struck down and hurt, we crowd about him, We bear him away, gaze after his listless body; But whether he lives or dies we do not know.
One of us sings in the street, and we listen to him; The words ring over us like vague bells of sorrow.
He sings of a house he lived in long ago.
It is strange; this house of dust was the house I lived in; The house you lived in, the house that all of us know.
And coiling slowly about him, and laughing at him, And throwing him pennies, we bear away A mournful echo of other times and places, And follow a dream .
.
.
a dream that will not stay.
Down long broad flights of lamplit stairs we flow; Noisy, in scattered waves, crowding and shouting; In broken slow cascades.
The gardens extend before us .
.
.
We spread out swiftly; Trees are above us, and darkness.
The canyon fades .
.
.
And we recall, with a gleaming stab of sadness, Vaguely and incoherently, some dream Of a world we came from, a world of sun-blue hills .
.
.
A black wood whispers around us, green eyes gleam; Someone cries in the forest, and someone kills.
We flow to the east, to the white-lined shivering sea; We reach to the west, where the whirling sun went down; We close our eyes to music in bright cafees.
We diverge from clamorous streets to streets that are silent.
We loaf where the wind-spilled fountain plays.
And, growing tired, we turn aside at last, Remember our secret selves, seek out our towers, Lay weary hands on the banisters, and climb; Climbing, each, to his little four-square dream Of love or lust or beauty or death or crime.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The snow floats down upon us mingled with rainEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...


Top Conrad Aiken Poems

Analysis and Comments on The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The snow floats down upon us mingled with rain

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The snow floats down upon us mingled with rain here.