<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115568" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Death</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death! that struck when I was most confiding.<br> In my certain faith of joy to be—<br>Strike again, Time's withered branch dividing<br> From the fresh root of Eternity!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Leaves, upon Time's branch, were growing brightly,<br> Full of sap, and full of silver dew;<br>Birds beneath its shelter gathered nightly;<br> Daily round its flowers the wild bees flew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sorrow passed, and plucked the golden blossom;<br> Guilt stripped off the foliage in its pride<br>But, within its parent's kindly bosom,<br> Flowed for ever Life's restoring tide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Little mourned I for the parted gladness,<br> For the vacant nest and silent song—<br>Hope was there, and laughed me out of sadness;<br> Whispering, 'Winter will not linger long!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, behold! with tenfold increase blessing,<br> Spring adorned the beauty-burdened spray;<br>Wind and rain and fervent heat, caressing,<br> Lavished glory on that second May!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">High it rose—no winged grief could sweep it;<br> Sin was scared to distance with its shine;<br>Love, and its own life, had power to keep it<br> From all wrong—from every blight but thine!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cruel Death! The young leaves droop and languish;<br> Evening's gentle air may still restore—<br>No! the morning sunshine mocks my anguish—<br> Time, for me, must never blossom more!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strike it down, that other boughs may flourish<br> Where that perished sapling used to be;<br>Thus, at least, its mouldering corpse will nourish<br> That from which it sprung—Eternity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emily+Bront%C3%AB">Emily Brontë</a> from <i>Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell</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=115568" data-title="Death de Emily Brontë" data-description="Death! that struck when I was most confiding./ In my certain faith of joy to be—/Strike again, Time's withered branch dividing/ From the fresh root of Eternity!/Leaves, upon Time's branch, were growing brightly,/ Full of sap, and full of silver ..."></div> </div> </div>

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