And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor 1845. Shall be lifted-nevermore! 108 Edgar Allan Poe. THE BALLAD OF CAMDEN TOWN I WALKED with Maisie long years back I splendid in my suit of black, Hers was a proud and noble face, A secret heart and eyes A bed, a chest, a faded mat, In Hazel Avenue. But I could walk to Hampstead Heath, When I was ill and she was pale And empty stood our store, She left the latch key on its nail, And saw me nevermore. 4 8 12 16 20 Perhaps she cast herself away Lest both of us should drown: Perhaps she feared to die, as they Who die in Camden Town. What 'came of her? The bitter nights Destroy the rose and lily, And souls are lost among the lights Of painted Piccadilly. What 'came of her? The river flows And waits to catch the fallen rose I dream she dwells in London still Once more together we will live, I have so little to forgive; 24 28 32 36 So much I can't forget. #40 James Elroy Flecker. THE PROUD LADY WHEN Stävoren town was in its prime |