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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=350468" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Memory</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Adown the grass-grown paths we strayed, <br>  The evening cowslips ope’d <br>Their yellow eyes to look at her, <br>  The love-sick lilies moped <br>With envy that she rather chose <br>To take a creamy-petalled rose <br>And lean it 'gainst her ebon hair, <br>All in that garden fair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A languid breeze, with stolen scent <br>  Of box-bloom in his grasp, <br>Sighed out his longing in her ear, <br>  And with his dying gasp <br>Scattered the perfume at her feet <br>To blend with others not less sweet; <br>He loved her, but she did not care, <br>All in that garden fair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rose she honoured nodded down, <br>  His comrades burst with spite: <br>Poor fool! he knew not he was doomed <br>  To barely last the night; <br>Are hearts to her but as that flower, <br>The plaything of a careless hour, <br>To lacerate and never spare <br>All in that garden fair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I held her hand that I might trace <br>  Her fortune in its palm; <br>A bolder moonbeam than the rest <br>  Crept up and kissed her arm, <br>And, kissing once, was loth to leave, <br>So hid himself within the sleeve <br>That clasped the lithe arm, white and bare, <br>All in that garden fair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I traced her fortune: love and wealth,- <br>  Tho’ life, alas! was short, <br>But will that wealth be bought with love? <br>  Or love with wealth be bought? <br>I know not, knowing only this - <br>Her hand seemed waiting for a kiss, <br>I longed to, but I did not dare <br>All in that garden fair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But she, alas! is not for me, <br>  And I am not for her; <br>Yet ever deep within my thoughts <br>  A faint regret must stir <br>A thrill of longing - that among <br>Those moonlit paths with lover's tongue <br>I might return, and woo her there <br>All in that garden fair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Barcroft+Henry+Thomas+Boake">Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake</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=350468" data-title="A Memory de Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake" data-description="Adown the grass-grown paths we strayed, 
  The evening cowslips ope’d 
Their yellow eyes to look at her, 
  The love-sick lilies moped 
With envy that she rather chose 
To take a creamy-petalled rose 
And lean it 'gainst her ebon hair, 
All in t..."></div>
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