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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=349945" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Her Memories</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">NOT by her grave: thither I bid them take<br>Fresh garlands of the flowers that pleased her best,<br>And lay them by the headstone, for my sake,<br>My token and remembrance with the rest:<br>But here, where in the brightening of the west<br>I see her mountains grow into the sky,<br>Her native world, and mine because of her,<br>Here, where that low sigh of the pinewood's stir,<br>That was her dearest music, fills all sound<br>,I am with her;<br>And always, always, past comes passing by,<br>Lost in her grave, but here as if half found.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not by her grave: it is too still, too cold,<br>And save my loss is nothing with me there.<br>What memories have I there of her of old?<br>They came not there, the dear lost days that were;<br>Not she lies there, but only my despair;<br>Not she, but death and all my loneliness.<br>What memories save all memories love must shun?<br>I would not think of death and her as one;<br>She shall be only life-ful in my mind,<br>With life's self one;<br>A name of glad remindings and old bliss,<br>So something of her presence left behind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not by her grave: some day will I return,<br>When sorrow keeps its wont unvexed by place,<br>And, sitting on the turf beside, will learn<br>To call before me there her waking face,<br>Not that white face that slept and took no trace<br>Of change because I kissed it, nor for tears.<br>Some day; for now I should forget her so,<br>Lose the fair happy woman and but know<br>The coldness and the silence when she died,<br>Lose her all so,<br>My love that was my life of all for years.<br>She loved this music when the pinewoods sighed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Augusta+Davies+Webster">Augusta Davies Webster</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=349945" data-title="Her Memories de Augusta Davies Webster" data-description="NOT by her grave: thither I bid them take
Fresh garlands of the flowers that pleased her best,
And lay them by the headstone, for my sake,
My token and remembrance with the rest:
But here, where in the brightening of the west
I see her mountains g..."></div>
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