Conrad Aiken

More towers must yet be built-more towers destroyed- Great rocks hoisted in air; And he must seek his bread in high pale sunlight With gulls about him, and clouds just over his eyes. .

As evening falls, And the yellow lights leap one by one Along high walls; And along black streets that glisten as if with rain, The muted city seems Like one in a restless sleep,

I. (Bread and Music) Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread; Now that I am without you, all is desolate; All that

1 Senlin sat before us and we heard him. He smoked his pipe before us and we saw him. Was he small, with reddish hair, Did he light his pipe with a meditative stare

Of what she said to me that night-no matter. The strange thing came next day. My brain was full of music-something she played me-; I couldn’t remember it all, but phrases of it Wreathed

1 I am a house, says Senlin, locked and darkened, Sealed from the sun with wall and door and blind. Summon me loudly, and you’ll hear slow footsteps Ring far and faint in the

Up high black walls, up sombre terraces, Clinging like luminous birds to the sides of cliffs, The yellow lights went climbing towards the sky. From high black walls, gleaming vaguely with rain, Each yellow

When she came out, that white little Russian dancer, With her bright hair, and her eyes, so young, so young, He suddenly lost his leader, and all the players, And only heard an immortal