What place so strange,—though unrevealèd snow <br />With unimaginable fires arise <br />At the earth's end,—what passion of surprise <br />Like frost-bound fire-girt scenes of long ago? <br />Lo! this is none but I this hour; and lo! <br />This is the very place which to mine eyes <br />Those mortal hours in vain immortalize, <br />'Mid hurrying crowds, with what alone I know. <br />City, of thine a single simple door, <br />By some new Power reduplicate, must be <br />Even yet my life-porch in eternity, <br />Even with one presence filled, as once of yore: <br />Or mocking winds whirl round a chaff-strown floor <br />Thee and thy years and these my words and me.<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lxxxi-memorial-thresholds/
