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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117388" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sadness</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shine not on me, oh, moon! with the weak light<br>Of thy still beauty, mocking the turmoil<br>Of this tumultuous and jarring world,<br>With thy serenity, as if it were<br>Thy satellite, and thou didst deem it scorn<br>To let her passions move thee. I am sad—<br>And how may I have fellowship with thee,<br>Thou thing of perfect brightness? If the clouds<br>That sometimes pass athwart thy lovely brow<br>And shadow it as with a pensive thought,<br>Were round about thee now, with thy mild veil,<br>I would not turn from gazing;—but away,—<br>Thou art too brilliant for a tearful eye!<br>And mine is dim in sympathy and shame,<br>For the heart-broken, and the guilty ones,<br>Of my star-banner'd land.<br>The blessed breeze!<br>How most deliciously its coolness comes<br>With its soft stealing touch, to charm away<br>The slow, dull fever of my heavy brow;<br>And as I close beneath it, my wet lids,<br>To dry away their tears.—Yet is't not strange<br>How lightly it e'en bears its load of sighs!<br>Why, 't is from the soft south—the guilty south!<br>Where those who should lift up a free clear brow<br>To the pure light of Heaven, go bending down<br>The clouded forehead, ‘neath the heavy shame<br>Of painful fetters, to the very grave.<br>How, then, light thing of music, how canst thou<br>Come thus, all gladness, from the burial-place<br>Of the heart's best affections? Didst thou not<br>A moment check the fluttering of thy wings<br>To listen to the voice of woman's grief,<br>Lamenting for her lost ones? Hence with thee!—<br>Thou seem'st to me as thou wert made of sighs,<br>And the beseeching breath of woman's prayers,<br>Poured out to hearts that knew not how to feel!<br>Woe for man's selfishness! I will go in<br>And cover up my brow in the dull light,<br>As with a mourner's garment.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Margaret+Chandler">Elizabeth Margaret Chandler</a> from <i>Poetical Works</i><div class=q>
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<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=117388" data-title="Sadness de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="Shine not on me, oh, moon! with the weak light/Of thy still beauty, mocking the turmoil/Of this tumultuous and jarring world,/With thy serenity, as if it were/Thy satellite, and thou didst deem it scorn/To let her passions move thee. I am sad—/A..."></div>
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