Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342000" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ilicet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THERE is an end of joy and sorrow;<br>Peace all day long, all night, all morrow,<br>But never a time to laugh or weep.<br>The end is come of pleasant places,<br>The end of tender words and faces,<br>The end of all, the poppied sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No place for sound within their hearing,<br>No room to hope, no time for fearing,<br>No lips to laugh, no lids for tears.<br>The old years have run out all their measure;<br>No chance of pain, no chance of pleasure,<br>No fragment of the broken years.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Outside of all the worlds and ages,<br>There where the fool is as the sage is,<br>There where the slayer is clean of blood,<br>No end, no passage, no beginning,<br>There where the sinner leaves off sinning,<br>There where the good man is not good.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is not one thing with another,<br>But Evil saith to Good: My brother,<br>My brother, I am one with thee:<br>They shall not strive nor cry for ever:<br>No man shall choose between them: never<br>Shall this thing end and that thing be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wind wherein seas and stars are shaken<br>Shall shake them, and they shall not waken;<br>None that has lain down shall arise;<br>The stones are sealed across their places;<br>One shadow is shed on all their faces,<br>One blindness cast on all their eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sleep, is it sleep perchance that covers<br>Each face, as each face were his lover’s?<br>Farewell; as men that sleep fare well.<br>The grave’s mouth laughs unto derision<br>Desire and dread and dream and vision,<br>Delight of heaven and sorrow of hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No soul shall tell nor lip shall number<br>The names and tribes of you that slumber;<br>No memory, no memorial.<br>“Thou knowest”—who shall say thou knowest?<br>There is none highest and none lowest:<br>An end, an end, an end of all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Good night, good sleep, good rest from sorrow<br>To these that shall not have good morrow;<br>The gods be gentle to all these.<br>Nay, if death be not, how shall they be?<br>Nay, is there help in heaven? it may be<br>All things and lords of things shall cease.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The stooped urn, filling, dips and flashes;<br>The bronzèd brims are deep in ashes;<br>The pale old lips of death are fed.<br>Shall this dust gather flesh hereafter?<br>Shall one shed tears or fall to laughter,<br>At sight of all these poor old dead?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nay, as thou wilt; these know not of it;<br>Thine eyes’ strong weeping shall not profit,<br>Thy laughter shall not give thee ease;<br>Cry aloud, spare not, cease not crying,<br>Sigh, till thou cleave thy sides with sighing,<br>Thou shalt not raise up one of these.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Burnt spices flash, and burnt wine hisses,<br>The breathing flame’s mouth curls and kisses<br>The small dried rows of frankincense;<br>All round the sad red blossoms smoulder,<br>Flowers coloured like the fire, but colder,<br>In sign of sweet things taken hence;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, for their sake and in death’s favour<br>Things of sweet shape and of sweet savour<br>We yield them, spice and flower and wine;<br>Yea, costlier things than wine or spices,<br>Whereof none knoweth how great the price is,<br>And fruit that comes not of the vine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From boy’s pierced throat and girl’s pierced bosom<br>Drips, reddening round the blood-red blossom,<br>The slow delicious bright soft blood,<br>Bathing the spices and the pyre,<br>Bathing the flowers and fallen fire,<br>Bathing the blossom by the bud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Roses whose lips the flame has deadened<br>Drink till the lapping leaves are reddened<br>And warm wet inner petals weep;<br>The flower whereof sick sleep gets leisure,<br>Barren of balm and purple pleasure,<br>Fumes with no native steam of sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why will ye weep? what do ye weeping?<br>For waking folk and people sleeping,<br>And sands that fill and sands that fall,<br>The days rose-red, the poppied hours,<br>Blood, wine, and spice and fire and flowers,<br>There is one end of one and all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall such an one lend love or borrow?<br>Shall these be sorry for thy sorrow?<br>Shall these give thanks for words or breath?<br>Their hate is as their loving-kindness;<br>The frontlet of their brows is blindness,<br>The armlet of their arms is death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lo, for no noise or light of thunder<br>Shall these grave-clothes be rent in sunder;<br>He that hath taken, shall he give?<br>He hath rent them: shall he bind together?<br>He hath bound them: shall he break the tether?<br>He hath slain them: shall he bid them live?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A little sorrow, a little pleasure,<br>Fate metes us from the dusty measure<br>That holds the date of all of us;<br>We are born with travail and strong crying,<br>And from the birth-day to the dying<br>The likeness of our life is thus.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One girds himself to serve another,<br>Whose father was the dust, whose mother<br>The little dead red worm therein;<br>They find no fruit of things they cherish;<br>The goodness of a man shall perish,<br>It shall be one thing with his sin.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In deep wet ways by grey old gardens<br>Fed with sharp spring the sweet fruit hardens;<br>They know not what fruits wane or grow;<br>Red summer burns to the utmost ember;<br>They know not, neither can remember,<br>The old years and flowers they used to know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, for their sakes, so trapped and taken,<br>For theirs, forgotten and forsaken,<br>Watch, sleep not, gird thyself with prayer.<br>Nay, where the heart of wrath is broken,<br>Where long love ends as a thing spoken,<br>How shall thy crying enter there?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though the iron sides of the old world falter,<br>The likeness of them shall not alter<br>For all the rumour of periods,<br>The stars and seasons that come after,<br>The tears of latter men, the laughter<br>Of the old unalterable gods.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far up above the years and nations,<br>The high gods, clothed and crowned with patience,<br>Endure through days of deathlike date;<br>They bear the witness of things hidden;<br>Before their eyes all life stands chidden,<br>As they before the eyes of Fate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not for their love shall Fate retire,<br>Nor they relent for our desire,<br>Nor the graves open for their call.<br>The end is more than joy and anguish,<br>Than lives that laugh and lives that languish,<br>The poppied sleep, the end of all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Algernon+Charles+Swinburne">Algernon Charles Swinburne</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=342000" data-title="Ilicet de Algernon Charles Swinburne" data-description="THERE is an end of joy and sorrow;
Peace all day long, all night, all morrow,
But never a time to laugh or weep.
The end is come of pleasant places,
The end of tender words and faces,
The end of all, the poppied sleep.

No place for sound within t..."></div>
</div>
</div>