IN o more for us the little sighing. <br />No more the winds at twilight trouble us. <br /> <br />Lo the fair dead! <br /> <br />No more do I burn. <br /> <br />No more for us the fluttering of wings <br />That whirred in the air above us. <br /> <br />Lo the fair dead! <br /> <br />No more desire flayeth me, <br />No more for us the trembling <br />At the meeting of hands. <br /> <br />Lo the fair dead! <br /> <br />No more for us the wine of the lips, <br />No more for us the knowledge. <br />Lo the fair dead! <br /> <br />No more the torrent, <br />No more for us the meeting-place <br />(Lo the fair dead!) <br />Tintagoel.<br /><br />Ezra Pound<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/threnos/
