Halls grew darker and somehow faded. <br />Grates of windows drowned in black. <br />Every knight, every beautiful lady <br />Knew the tiding: "The Queen's deadly sick." <br /> <br />And the king, very silent and frowned, <br />Passed the doors, lost of pages and slaves ... <br />Every word, that by chance cast around, <br />Proved the truth of the closing grave. <br /> <br />By the doors of the silent abode <br />I was crying, while pressing the brace ... <br />At the end of the passage remote <br />Someone echoed me, hiding his face. <br /> <br />By the doors of the Beautiful Lady <br />I was sobbing, attired in blue ... <br />And the stranger of ashen face sadly <br />Echoed me all my sufferings through.<br /><br />Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/halls-grew-darker/
