The city's steeple-towers remove away, <br />Each singly; as each vain infatuate Faith <br />Leaves God in heaven, and passes. A mere breath <br />Each soon appears, so far. Yet that which lay <br />The first is now scarce further or more grey <br />Than the last is. Now all are wholly gone. <br />The sunless sky has not once had the sun <br />Since the first weak beginning of the day. <br />The air falls back as the wind finishes, <br />And the clouds stagnate. On the water's face <br />The current breathes along, but is not stirred. <br />There is no branch that thrills with any bird. <br />Winter is to possess the earth a space, <br />And have its will upon the extreme seas.<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-leaving-bruges/
