As I came through the desert thus it was, As I came through the desert: All was black, In heaven no single… — James Thomson
As I came through the desert thus it was,
As I came through the desert: All was black,
In heaven no single star, on earth no track;
A brooding hush without a stir or note;
The air so thick it clotted in my throat.
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More from this book
For life is but a dream whose shapes return,
Some frequently, some seldom, some by night
And some by day.
The City is of Night; perchance of Death,
But certainly of Night; for never there
Can come the lucid morning's fragrant breath
After the dewy dawning's cold grey air.
The world rolls round for ever like a mill;
It grinds out death and life and good and ill;
It has no purpose, heart or mind or will.
