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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348457" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>And Yet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THEY drew him from the darkened room, <br> Where, swooning in a peace profound, <br> Beneath a heavy fragrance drowned <br> Her grey form glimmered in the gloom. <br> Death smoothed from her each sordid trace <br> Of Life; at last he read the scroll; <br> For all the meaning of her soul <br> Flowered upon her perfect face. <br> “In other worlds her soul finds scope; <br> Her spirit lives; she is not dead,” <br> In his dulled ear they said and said, <br> Suave-murmuring the ancient Hope. <br> “You loved her; she was worthy love. <br> Think you her spheral soul can cease? <br> Nay, she has ripened to release <br> From this bare earth, and waits above.” <br> His brain their clamour heard aloof; <br> He, too, had said the self-same thing; <br> But now his heart was quivering <br> For more than comfort—parched for proof. <br> He put them from him. “Let me be; <br> You proffer in my bitter need <br> The coward comfort of a creed <br> That tears her soul apart from me. <br> <br> “She waits in no drear Heaven afar. <br> Her woman's soul in all its worth, <br> Yearning for me, for homely earth, <br> No gates of beaten gold could bar. <br> “No, she is near me, ever close; <br> One with the world, but free again; <br> One with the breezes and the rain; <br> One with the mountain and the rose. <br> “She knows me not; her voice is dumb; <br> But aching through the twilight peers, <br> And, unremembering, yet with tears, <br> She strives to say she cannot come. <br> “Yes, she is changed, but not destroyed; <br> The words that were her soul are hushed; <br> The gem that was her heart is crushed— <br> Its fragments white stars in the void. <br> “And I shall see her in disguise; <br> In the grey vistas of the street <br> A face that hints of her I meet; <br> Whispers her soul from alien eyes. <br> “In Time's great garden, spring on spring, <br> The blossoms glow; then at a breath <br> Their petals flutter down to death— <br> Ah love, how brief your blossoming! <br> <br> “Death has but severed part from part. <br> Borne on an ever-moving air <br> The fragrance of her life somewhere <br> Freshens some lonely wistful heart! <br> “No word of hers can God forget; <br> Her laughter Time dare not disperse; <br> It shakes the tense-strung universe, <br> And with the chord it trembles yet. <br> “Each mood of hers, each fancy slight, <br> In deep pulsations, ring on ring, <br> Dilating, ever-widening, <br> Ripples across the outer night. <br> “Her life with deathless charm was fraught, <br> And God with smiles remembers now <br> The puzzled pucker of her brow <br> Ruffled with sudden gusts of thought. <br> “And in His cosmic memory wise <br> Still live her subtle features thin, <br> Her dear iconoclastic chin, <br> The grave enigma of her eyes. <br> “And if beyond she might draw breath. <br> And know that I was not with her, <br> The wistful eyes of her despair <br> Would be more desolate than death. <br> <br> “But not to meet her in the wide <br> Night-spaces I must wander through; <br> To kiss the pretty pout I knew, <br> And nevermore to hear her chide; <br> “To speak those childish words that were <br> So foolish-sweet, so passionate-wise; <br> Her subtle fragrance recognise <br> And hear the whispers of her hair! … <br> “Her sun has set; but still, sublime, <br> She is a star, of God a part; <br> She is a petal at the heart <br> Of the eternal flower of Time. <br> “I triumph so beyond regret, <br> I win her immortality: <br> Where, Death, your vaunted victory? <br> Where, Grave, your sting? And yet—and yet——!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Arthur+Henry+Adams">Arthur Henry Adams</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=348457" data-title="And Yet de Arthur Henry Adams" data-description="THEY drew him from the darkened room, 
 Where, swooning in a peace profound, 
 Beneath a heavy fragrance drowned 
 Her grey form glimmered in the gloom. 
 Death smoothed from her each sordid trace 
 Of Life; at last he read the scroll; 
 For all t..."></div>
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