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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117595" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Death</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I have been gazing on the resting place<br>Of the cold sleepers of the earth—who trod<br>This busy planet for a little space,<br>Then laid them down, and took the verdant sod<br>To curtain the low cot wherein they slept,<br>Forgotten save by some few hearts that o'er them wept.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'T is strange—so lately they were living forms,<br>Breathing and moving; now the vernal sun<br>Looks down upon their silent graves, nor warms<br>One pulse to action—life with them is done;<br>And the turf blooms as quietly, as though<br>No forms of human mould were slumbering below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And this shall be my lot!—a little while,<br>And I shall, too, lie down and be at rest,<br>In silence and in darkness; earth will smile<br>In spring's rich garniture, and o'er my breast<br>The wild-flower shed its sweets—but there will be<br>No gladness in bright hues or fragrant breath for me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, Death! they call thee terrible—but life<br>Hath pain, and blighted hopes and bitter tears,<br>The pang of keen remorse, the daily strife<br>'Twixt jarring passions, the false smile that sears<br>The heart to kindly feelings, and the dread,<br>That e'en what bliss is ours, within our grasp will fade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor is it very dreadful to lie down<br>In momentary darkness, and awake<br>In a bright world of happiness, unknown,<br>And unimagined! But 't is sad to take<br>The last farewell of earthly things, and know<br>That we have left fond hearts to lingering years of woe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And herein lies the bitterness—but when<br>The parting pang is over, need we fear<br>To tread thy narrow pathway—and cling then<br>To life's poor relics?—It is true, that here<br>We have bright moments, scenes and hours of joy;<br>Yet seldom is our bliss unmix'd with some alloy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It should be so—there is enough of bliss,<br>To make the hours of life glide swiftly on,<br>Yet sadness dims the brightest cup—and this<br>Recalls the heart from trusting what must soon<br>Forever vanish from our grasp, when we<br>Are call'd from things of time to dread eternity.</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=117595" data-title="Death de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="I have been gazing on the resting place/Of the cold sleepers of the earth—who trod/This busy planet for a little space,/Then laid them down, and took the verdant sod/To curtain the low cot wherein they slept,/Forgotten save by some few hearts th..."></div>
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