work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
8108,"",Reading,2015-11-30 16:20:27 UTC,"I
All night, through the eternity of night,
Pain was my portion though I could not feel.
Deep in my humbled heart you ground your heel,
Till I was reft of even my inner light,
Till reason from my mind had taken flight,
And all my world went whirling in a reel.
And all my swarthy strength turned cold like steel,
A passive mass beneath your puny might.
Last night I gave you triumph over me,
So I should be myself as once before,
I marveled at your shallow mystery,
And haunted hungrily your temple door.
I gave you sum and substance to be free,
Oh, you shall never triumph any more!
II
I do not fear to face the fact and say,
How darkly-dull my living hours have grown,
My wounded heart sinks heavier than stone,
Because I loved you longer than a day!
I do not shame to turn myself away
From beckoning flowers beautifully blown,
To mourn your vivid memory alone
In mountain fastnesses austerely gray.
The mists will shroud me on the utter height,
The salty, brimming waters of my breast
Will mingle with the fresh dews of the night
To bathe my spirit hankering to rest.
But after sleep I'll wake with greater might,
Once more to venture on the eternal quest.
(pp. 94-5)",,24748,"","""All night, through the eternity of night, / Pain was my portion though I could not feel. / Deep in my humbled heart you ground your heel, / Till I was reft of even my inner light, / Till reason from my mind had taken flight, / And all my world went whirling in a reel.""","",2015-11-30 16:20:27 UTC,""
8189,"",Reading,2017-01-05 15:32:59 UTC,"March 3.
I often sit in my room at the B. M. and look out at the traffic with a glassy, mesmerised face--a fainéant. How different from that extremely busy youth who came to London in 1912. Say--could that lad be I? How many hours do I waste day-dreaming. This morning I dreamed and dreamed and could not stop dreaming--I had not the will to shake myself down to my task. ... My memories simply trooped the colour.
(pp. 178-9)
",,24996,"","""My memories simply trooped the colour.""","",2017-01-05 15:33:15 UTC,"March, 1915"