Leobel Carmona have a 81 following and 62 followers. Leobel Carmona's world rankings is 196022. This page is based on Leobel Carmona's online data & informations. You can find information birth date, place of residence, phone number, address and social media accounts on Leobel Carmona's page.
About Leobel Carmona
O travelled far beyond unhappiness Into a dreadful peace! Why tarriest thou here? The street is bright With noon; the music of the tidal sound Of London fills the trembling air with power Flowing and freed around; No corner but is stirred With motion and with voices mingling heard, That every hour Bring thousand faces trooping into light Past thee. O hide thyself beneath the ground! Trouble not our sunshine longer, lest we see Too clearly inscribed on thee All that we fear to be
What dost thou with the sun? Long since thy race was run. What spectral task employs Thy hands? The very boys That mocked thee, mock no more; they pass thee by, Like a dumb stone that cannot make reply. Yet, even as a stone Will from the turbulent sea Take voice and motion not its own, Words on thy lips mechanically stray With echoes and with gleams that fade and come Unrecognized, unknown. And as from some extinguished star The orphan ray Still vainly travels its eternal way, A light of meaning flickers from afar From what long since was dumb. Still at the accustomed place Appears thy ruined face; And in thy niche all the resounding day, 'Mid busy voices haunting motionless Thou standest; and to every loitering eye Resign'st thy history. Alas! thou also, thou that art so cold, Thou also once wert young; And once didst hang upon thy mother's breast And laugh upon thy father's knee. But now thy flesh is nearer to the mould Than the light grass,--and still thou lingerest! Woe to thee now, because thou chosest ill, Because each hour thou didst resign A little more of thy slow--ebbing will, And to the invading silence didst assent; Because to Life saying for ever Nay, To Death thou saidest Yea, Who leaves thee now engraven with defeat In this triumphal street, With all that was and is no longer thine Yielded and spent At what a priceless cost. O face of many battles, and all lost!
Now all thy dues paid, Death possesses thee; But too secure To occupy his easy kingdom, spares To enforce his title; cruelly forbears, And suffers thee to languish in thy lot, In this most woeful, that thou weepest not. So in some street Stirred with the rushing feet Of life that glitters and that thunders past, An aged house, broken and doomed at last, Ere yet it vanish quite, Abandons helpless to the light Spoiled sanctuaries, filled with emptiness, Where late the weary harboured, and young fears Were cradled into peace, And sacred kisses kissed, and private tears Were dried, and true hearts hid their close delight. But now the fires are ashes, all is bare, The torn, gay paper flutters old, And a phantasmal stair Climbs into floorless chambers, and hearths cold.