Explore "The Citadel" by Gilbert Parker on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A night wind-swept and bound about with blee / Of Erebus; all light and cheer within; / White restless hands that falter, then begin / To weave a music-voiced fantasy.
And life, and death, and love, and weariness, / And unrequital, thrid the maze of sound; / And one voice saith, "Behold, the lost is found!"
And saith not any more for joyfulness.
Out of the night there comes a wanderer, / Who waits upon the threshold, and is still; / And listens, and bows down his head, until
His grief-drawn breath startles the heart of her.
The victor vanquished, at her feet he fell, / A prisoner in his conquered citadel.