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darkness

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Darkness

 

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars

Did wander darkling in the eternal space,

Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;

Morn came, and went and came, and brought no day,

And men forgot their passions in the dread

Of this desolation; and all hearts

Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:

And they did live by watchfires - and the thrones,

The palaces of crowned kings, the huts,

The habitations of all things which dwell,

Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,

And men were gathered round their blazing homes

To look once more into each other's face;

Happy were those who dwelt within the eye

Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:

A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;

Forest were set on fire but hour by hour

They fell and faded and the crackling trunks

Extinguish'd with a crash and all was black.

The brows of men by the despairing light

Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits

The flashes fell upon them; some lay down

And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest

Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;

And others hurried to and fro, and fed

Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up

With mad disquietude on the dull sky,

The pall of a past world; and then again

With curses cast them down upon the dust,

And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd,

And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,

And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes

Came tame and tremolous; and vipers crawl'd

And twined themselves among the multitude,

Hissing, but stingless, they were slain for food:

And War, which for a moment was no more,

Did glut himself again; a meal was bought

With blood, and each sate sullenly apart

Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;

All earth was but one thought and that was death,

Immediate and inglorious; and the pang

Of famine fed upon all entrails men

Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;

The meagre by the meagre were devoured,

Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,

And he was faithful to a corpse, and kept

The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,

Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead

Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,

But with a piteous and perpetual moan

And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand

Which answered not with a caress, he died.

The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two

Of an enormous city did survive, And they were enemies;

They met beside

The dying embers of an altar-place

Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things

For an unholy usage; they raked up,

And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands

The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath

 

 

Blew for a little life, and made a flame

Wich was a mockery; then they lifted up

Their eyes as it grew lighter, and

Each other's aspects. saw, and shriek'd, and died, beheld

Even of their mutual hideousness they died,

Unknowing who he was upon whose brow

Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,

The populous and the powerful was a lump,

Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless,

A lump of death, a chaos of hard clay.

The rivers, lakes, and ocean stood still,

And nothing stirred within their silent depths;

Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,

And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropp'd

They slept on the abyss without a surge

The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,

The moon their mistress had expired before;

The winds were withered in the stagnant air,

And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need

Of aid from them. She was the universe.

 

----------------by Lord Byron

 

One of my favorite poem. Little more about this poem from Wikipedia is given:

Darkness is a poem written by Lord Byron in July 1816. That year was known as the Year Without a Summer - this is because Mount Tambora had erupted in the Dutch East Indies the previous year, casting enough ash in to the atmosphere to block out the sun and cause abnormal weather across much of northeast America and northern Europe. This pall of darkness inspired Byron to write his poem. Literary critics were initially content to classify it as a "last man" poem, telling the apocalyptic story of the last man on earth. More recent critics have focused on the poem's historical context, as well as the anti-biblical nature of the poem, despite its many references to the Bible. The writing of this poem also occurred only months after the ending of his marriage.

 

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Uploaded on December 28, 2009
Taken on October 7, 2009