Explore "The House of Wisdom" by Francis Sherman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I had not thought (ah, God! had I but known! ) / That this sad hour should ever me befall, / When thou I judged the holiest of all / Should come to be the thing I must disown.
Was it not true? that April morn? thy blown / Gold hair around my hair for coronal?
Or is this truer? -- thou at the outer wall, / Unroyal, and with unrepentant moan?
Yet prize I now this wisdom I have won, / Who must always remember? Nay! My tears / Must close mine eyes -- as thou wouldst hide thy face / If some great meteor, kindred to the sun, / Should haunt the undying stars ten million years / To fall, some noon, dead in thy market place.