06.05.2012, 12:05
Success
HIGH in the city's hot and pestilent air
A little room, bare walls, a battered door,
A low, cracked ceiling hung with cobwebs o'er,
A window small, with panes that here and there
Were choked with unclean rags, a wooden chair
That held of drugs and food a meagre store,
And on a mattress on the dusty floor
A corpse with open mouth and empty stare. -
On these I looked by day's expiring light,
While round me hung a heavy atmosphere
Of charnel odours; yet I knew that here
The Eye that truly sees beheld a sight
Of such high glory Earth has not its peer,
For in this place was won the Soul's great fight.
HIGH in the city's hot and pestilent air
A little room, bare walls, a battered door,
A low, cracked ceiling hung with cobwebs o'er,
A window small, with panes that here and there
Were choked with unclean rags, a wooden chair
That held of drugs and food a meagre store,
And on a mattress on the dusty floor
A corpse with open mouth and empty stare. -
On these I looked by day's expiring light,
While round me hung a heavy atmosphere
Of charnel odours; yet I knew that here
The Eye that truly sees beheld a sight
Of such high glory Earth has not its peer,
For in this place was won the Soul's great fight.