<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=114998" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A thought on death</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas! my thoughts, how faint they rise,<br> Their pinions clogg'd with dirt;<br>They cannot gain the distant skies,<br> But gravitate to earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No angel meets them on the way,<br> To guide them to new spheres;<br>And for to light them, not a ray<br> Of heavenly gace appears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Return then to thy native ground,<br> And sink into the tombs;<br>There take a dismal journey round<br> The melancholy rooms:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There level'd equal king and swain,<br> The vicious and the just;<br>The turf ignoble limbs contain,<br> One rots beneath a bust.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What heaps of human bones appear<br> Pil'd up along the walls!<br>These are Death's trophies---furniture<br> Of his tremendous halls</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The water oozing thro' the stones,<br> Still drops a mould'ring tear;<br>Rots the gilt coffin from the bones,<br> And lays the carcase bare.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is Cleora---come, let's see<br> Once more the blooming fair;<br>Take off the lid---ah! 'tis not she,<br> A vile impostor there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is this the charmer poets sung,<br> And vainly deified,<br>The envy of the maiden throng?<br> (How humbling to our pride!)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unhappy man, of transient breath,<br> Just born to view the day,<br>Drop in the grave---and after death<br> To filth and dust decay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Methinks the vault, at ev'ry tread,<br> Sounds deeply in my ear,<br>'Thou too shalt join the silent dead,<br> 'Thy final scene is here.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thy final scene! no, I retract,<br> Not till the clarion's sound<br>Demands the sleeping pris'ners back<br> From the refunding ground:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not till that audit shall I hear<br> Th' immutable decree,<br>Decide the solemn question, where<br> I pass eternity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death is the conqueror of clay,<br> And can but clay detain;<br>The soul, superior, springs away,<br> And scorns his servile chain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The just arise, and shrink no more<br> At graves, and shrouds, and worms,<br>Conscious they shall (when time is o'er)<br> Inhabit angel forms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ann+Eliza+Bleecker">Ann Eliza Bleecker</a> from <i>The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=114998" data-title="A thought on death de Ann Eliza Bleecker" data-description="Alas! my thoughts, how faint they rise,/ Their pinions clogg'd with dirt;/They cannot gain the distant skies,/ But gravitate to earth./No angel meets them on the way,/ To guide them to new spheres;/And for to light them, not a ray/ Of heavenly gac..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black