Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The House Of Dust: Part 03: 06: Portrait Of One Dead</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">This is the house. On one side there is darkness,<br>On one side there is light.<br>Into the darkness you may lift your lanterns—<br>O, any number—it will still be night.<br>And here are echoing stairs to lead you downward<br>To long sonorous halls.<br>And here is spring forever at these windows,<br>With roses on the walls.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">This is her room. On one side there is music—<br>On one side not a sound.<br>At one step she could move from love to silence,<br>Feel myriad darkness coiling round.<br>And here are balconies from which she heard you,<br>Your steady footsteps on the stair.<br>And here the glass in which she saw your shadow<br>As she unbound her hair.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Here is the room—with ghostly walls dissolving—<br>The twilight room in which she called you 'lover';<br>And the floorless room in which she called you 'friend.'<br>So many times, in doubt, she ran between them!—<br>Through windy corridors of darkening end.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Here she could stand with one dim light above her<br>And hear far music, like a sea in caverns,<br>Murmur away at hollowed walls of stone.<br>And here, in a roofless room where it was raining,<br>She bore the patient sorrow of rain alone.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Your words were walls which suddenly froze around her.<br>Your words were windows,—large enough for moonlight,<br>Too small to let her through.<br>Your letters—fragrant cloisters faint with music.<br>The music that assuaged her there was you.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">How many times she heard your step ascending<br>Yet never saw your face!<br>She heard them turn again, ring slowly fainter,<br>Till silence swept the place.<br>Why had you gone? . . . The door, perhaps, mistaken . . .<br>You would go elsewhere. The deep walls were shaken.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A certain rose-leaf—sent without intention—<br>Became, with time, a woven web of fire—<br>She wore it, and was warm.<br>A certain hurried glance, let fall at parting,<br>Became, with time, the flashings of a storm.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Yet, there was nothing asked, no hint to tell you<br>Of secret idols carved in secret chambers<br>From all you did and said.<br>Nothing was done, until at last she knew you.<br>Nothing was known, till, somehow, she was dead.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">How did she die?—You say, she died of poison.<br>Simple and swift. And much to be regretted.<br>You did not see her pass<br>So many thousand times from light to darkness,<br>Pausing so many times before her glass;</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">You did not see how many times she hurried<br>To lean from certain windows, vainly hoping,<br>Passionate still for beauty, remembered spring.<br>You did not know how long she clung to music,<br>You did not hear her sing.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358639" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Did she, then, make the choice, and step out bravely<br>From sound to silence—close, herself, those windows?<br>Or was it true, instead,<br>That darkness moved,—for once,—and so possessed her? . . .<br>We'll never know, you say, for she is dead.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Conrad+Potter+Aiken">Conrad Potter Aiken</a></strong></div>