Not for that city of the level sun, <br /> Its golden streets and glittering gates ablaze— <br /> The shadeless, sleepless city of white days, <br />White nights, or nights and days that are as one— <br />We weary, when all is said , all thought, all done. <br /> We strain our eyes beyond this dusk to see <br /> What, from the threshold of eternity <br />We shall step into. No, I think we shun <br />The splendour of that everlasting glare, <br /> The clamour of that never-ending song. <br /> And if for anything we greatly long, <br />It is for some remote and quiet stair <br /> Which winds to silence and a space for sleep <br /> Too sound for waking and for dreams too deep.<br /><br />Charlotte Mary Mew<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-for-that-city/
