The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The Snow Floats Down Upon Us, Mingled With Rain Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABBACDE FGHIG HGGJGHKLK GMNIN OPQPQ IRISI TIUPU

The snow floats down upon us mingled with rainA
It eddies around pale lilac lamps and fallsB
Down golden windowed wallsB
We were all born of flesh in a flare of painA
We do not remember the red roots whence we roseC
But we know that we rose and walked that after a whileD
We shall lie down againE
-
The snow floats down upon us we turn we turnF
Through gorges filled with light we sound and flowG
One is struck down and hurt we crowd about himH
We bear him away gaze after his listless bodyI
But whether he lives or dies we do not knowG
-
One of us sings in the street and we listen to himH
The words ring over us like vague bells of sorrowG
He sings of a house he lived in long agoG
It is strange this house of dust was the house I lived inJ
The house you lived in the house that all of us knowG
And coiling slowly about him and laughing at himH
And throwing him pennies we bear awayK
A mournful echo of other times and placesL
And follow a dream a dream that will not stayK
-
Down long broad flights of lamplit stairs we flowG
Noisy in scattered waves crowding and shoutingM
In broken slow cascadesN
The gardens extend before us We spread out swiftlyI
Trees are above us and darkness The canyon fadesN
-
And we recall with a gleaming stab of sadnessO
Vaguely and incoherently some dreamP
Of a world we came from a world of sun blue hillsQ
A black wood whispers around us green eyes gleamP
Someone cries in the forest and someone killsQ
-
We flow to the east to the white lined shivering seaI
We reach to the west where the whirling sun went downR
We close our eyes to music in bright cafeesI
We diverge from clamorous streets to streets that are silentS
We loaf where the wind spilled fountain playsI
-
And growing tired we turn aside at lastT
Remember our secret selves seek out our towersI
Lay weary hands on the banisters and climbU
Climbing each to his little four square dreamP
Of love or lust or beauty or death or crimeU

Conrad Potter Aiken



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