Chapter 67 - Sestina 10 (2/2)

But hunger was a more immediate sorrow,

Although to moping villagers in valleys

Some waving pilgrims were describing islands … ”The gods,” they promised, ”visit us from

islands,

Are stalking, head-up, lovely, through our cities;

Now is the time to leave your wretched valleys

And sail with them across the lime-green water,

Sitting at their white sides, forget your sorrow,

The shadow cast across your lives by mountains.” So many, doubtful, perished in the mountains,

Climbing up crags to get a view of islands,

So many, fearful, took with them their sorrow

Which stayed them when they reached unhappy cities,

So many, careless, dived and drowned in water,

So many, wretched, would not leave their valleys. It is our sorrow. Shall it melt? Ah, water

Would gush, flush, green these mountains and these valleys,

And we rebuild our cities, not dream of islands.

By W.H. Auden