<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=336697" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sunday Morning - V</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">She says, "But in contentment I still feel <br>The need of some imperishable bliss."<br>Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her, <br>Alone, shall come fulfilment to our dreams <br>And our desires. Although she strews the leaves <br>Of sure obliteration on our paths, <br>The path sick sorrow took, the many paths <br>Where triumph rang its brassy phrase, or love <br>Whispered a little out of tenderness, <br>She makes the willow shiver in the sun <br>For maidens who were wont to sit and gaze <br>Upon the grass, relinquished to their feet. <br>She causes boys to pile new plums and pears <br>On disregarded plate. The maidens taste <br>And stray impassioned in the littering leaves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wallace+Stevens">Wallace Stevens</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=336697" data-title="Sunday Morning - V de Wallace Stevens" data-description="She says, "But in contentment I still feel /The need of some imperishable bliss."/Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her, /Alone, shall come fulfilment to our dreams /And our desires. Although she strews the leaves /Of sure obliteration on ..."></div> </div> </div>

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