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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339771" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Looking in the Fire</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The snow falls soft and thick. My cedar bough<br>Sways up and down, and scratches on the glass.<br>The wind sighs in the chimney, as I sit,<br>With elbows on my knees, before the fire,<br>Resting a crumpled chin in hollow'd palms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is great trouble in the cold and dark;<br>And other girls shrink off and steal away,<br>To crouch in lonely rooms and look at fires,<br>And look at their dead joys and living griefs,—<br>But they are pitied. None would pity me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Friends come to seek them, and lay tender hands<br>On their bow'd heads and sore and restless hearts.<br>They find the wound, and drop the healing oil;<br>They lift the burden off, or make it light.<br>But they would smile, unless they laugh'd, at mine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O still, warm fire, you will not bubble up<br>In mocking flames,—your heart will soon be cold!<br>O wind—for you have seen the roses bloom,<br>And the shrunk petals fall and drift away—<br>You hear, and sob and sigh as you go past!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is unrequited love so sad a thing?<br>Ay, ay,—but this is even sadder still;<br>To want to love, and not to have the power—<br>To meet your king at last with empty hands—<br>To be so young, and to have squander'd all!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas, alas! to know your wine is sour—<br>To have loved wrong, with love despoil'd of trust,<br>Dishonour'd love, that mix'd itself with hate,—<br>To see the pearl of price laid at your feet,<br>And know your wealth is gone for dross and lies!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ay, 'tis the saddest thing to want to love,<br>To want to cling, when you have lost your strength—<br>To feel the ashes choking up the hearth,<br>And think how bright a fire there might have been,—<br>To know when you are loved, too late—too late!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ada+Cambridge">Ada Cambridge</a><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=339771" data-title="Looking in the Fire de Ada Cambridge" data-description="The snow falls soft and thick. My cedar bough
Sways up and down, and scratches on the glass.
The wind sighs in the chimney, as I sit,
With elbows on my knees, before the fire,
Resting a crumpled chin in hollow'd palms.

There is great trouble in t..."></div>
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