<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116597" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sadness</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thy sadness is a leaden shroud, a rock<br>Of Sisyphus, which thou must upward roll<br>By night and day, on, on. Its downward rush<br>Is no relief, no help, since it but seems<br>Heavier at each fresh start. And still thy strength<br>Is waning, and thy heart aches with the tears--<br>The unshed tears that lie like stones upon it,<br>While those that flowed are rivers in thy path--<br>Unfathomable, fordless, dark and deep.<br>These thou must wade, with all thy burdens--wade<br>And sink with every step as 'twere thy last,<br>And feel such deadly weakness seize on thee<br>As though some raging fever laid thee low.<br>Thy sadness is a Nessus robe, that clings<br>In burning folds about thee, sears thy flesh,<br>And eats into thy bones. 'Tis like a weapon<br>A man turns on himself, whose wound nought heals,<br>Since it is dealt against his inmost soul.<br>If, then, through clouds of sadness, thou perceivest<br>The world, well mayst thou say of it: 'Tis hell!<br>For spring itself is dark, the birds' sweet carol<br>Cheerless and dull, thy life a very desert,<br>Where human faces pass like spectral visions,<br>And gladness is a thing so clean forgotten,<br>As if it ne'er had been--its very name<br>Become a soundless word, a ghostly whisper!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Carmen+Sylva">Carmen Sylva</a><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=116597" data-title="Sadness de Carmen Sylva" data-description="Thy sadness is a leaden shroud, a rock/Of Sisyphus, which thou must upward roll/By night and day, on, on. Its downward rush/Is no relief, no help, since it but seems/Heavier at each fresh start. And still thy strength/Is waning, and thy heart ache..."></div> </div> </div>

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