Explore "The House of Tears" by Francis Sherman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When in the old years I had dreams of thee / Thy dark walls stood in a most barren place; / And he within (was his wan face _my_ face? ) / Wandered alone and wept continually.
There was no bird to hear, nor sun to see, / Nor green thing growing; nor for his release / Came sleep; neither forgetfulness nor peace: / Whereby I knew that none had sinned as he.
To-day I met him where white lilies gleam; / Across our path we watched the sparrows flit; / Until -- the sunlight strong in our dry eyes -- / He paused with me beside a green-edged stream, / Moaning, "I know, where its young waters rise, / Remembering, one leaneth over it. "