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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341544" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In My Own Shire, If I Was Sad</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In my own shire, if I was sad, <br>Homely comforters I had: <br>The earth, because my heart was sore, <br>Sorrowed for the son she bore; <br>And standing hills, long to remain, <br>Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. <br>And bound for the same bourn as I, <br>On every road I wandered by, <br>Trod beside me, close and dear, <br>The beautiful and death-struck year: <br>Whether in the woodland brown <br>I heard the beechnut rustle down, <br>And saw the purple crocus pale <br>Flower about the autumn dale; <br>Or littering far the fields of May <br>Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, <br>And like a skylit water stood <br>The bluebells in the azured wood. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yonder, lightening other loads, <br>The seasons range the country roads, <br>But here in London streets I ken <br>No such helpmates, only men; <br>And these are not in plight to bear, <br>If they would, another's care. <br>They have enough as 'tis: I see <br>In many an eye that measures me <br>The mortal sickness of a mind <br>Too unhappy to be kind. <br>Undone with misery, all they can <br>Is to hate their fellow man; <br>And till they drop they needs must still <br>Look at you and wish you ill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Edward+Housman">Alfred Edward Housman</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=341544" data-title="In My Own Shire, If I Was Sad de Alfred Edward Housman" data-description="In my own shire, if I was sad, 
Homely comforters I had: 
The earth, because my heart was sore, 
Sorrowed for the son she bore; 
And standing hills, long to remain, 
Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. 
And bound for the same bourn as I, 
On ..."></div>
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