Robert Laurence Binyon - Deptford lyrics

Well is it, shrouded Sun, thou spar'st no ray To illumine this sad street! A light more bare Would but discover more this bald array Of roofs dejected, window patched that stare From sordid walls: for the shy breath of Spring, Her cheek of flowers, or fragrance of her hair, Thou could'st not, save to cheated memory, bring. Alas! I welcome this dull mist, that drapes The path of the heavy sky above the street, Casting a phantom dimness on these shapes That pa**, by toil disfeatured, with slow feet And with mistrustful eyes; though in the mud Children the play of ages old repeat, Because of quenchless wanting in their blood. Yet oh, what clouds of heaviness deter My spirit; what sad vacancy impedes! I am like some far--ventured traveller, Whom, in a forest vast, entangled weeds Have hindered; over whom green darkness fills The inextricable boughs and stifling feeds A poisonous fear, that sinks on him and chills. Nor finds he faith, amid the monstrous trees Rooted in silence, peopled with strange cries And stealthy shadows (where alone he sees Rank growths of the hot marsh, but watching eyes Imagines), to believe the self--same bark He leans on, lifts to the unclouded skies Its crest victorious from that cradle dark. I with like pain and languor am opprest: Me too a forest upon poison fed, Me too the marsh and the rank weeds infest. Almost I trace in the dumb pall o'erhead A net of stubborn boughs that dimly mesh The air; I stifle: like a chain of lead They weigh upon my soul, they bind my flesh. I cannot breathe: the last and worst despair Begins to invade me, numbing even desire That panted for sweet draughts of light and air. Dumb walls against me with blind heaven conspire: Incredible the sun seems now, a ghost I dreamed of in my dreams; unreal fire. The light is blotted out, the blue is lost. Was it mirage, the glow I fancied warm On human cheeks, the beauty of my kind? I feel it fading from me, a brief charm Flying at touch. Blow hither, storms of wind! Strike hither, strong sun, to my dulled heart's core! Awake, disturb me, lest mine eyes grow blind, By fatal use to a foul dream resigned, Accept for Nature's body this, her sore.