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=354824" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Lament</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Flowers in their freshness are flushing the earth, <br>And the voice-peopled forest is loud in its mirth, <br>And streams in their fulness are laughing at dearth— <br> Yet my bosom is aching. <br>There’s shadow on all things—the shadow of woe— <br>It falls from my spirit wherever I go, <br>As from a dark cloud drifting heavy and slow, <br> For my spirit is weary. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! what can be flowers in their gladness to me, <br>Or the voices that people the green forest tree, <br>Or the full joy of streams—since my soul sighs, ah me! <br> O’er the grave of my Mary. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under the glad face of nature, her face <br>Hath carried down with it all beauty and grace; <br>Pale is it there in that dark silent place— <br> Mary! oh Mary! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Children are by me—her children; oh God! <br>To see where their feet have unwittingly trod, <br>Tiny tracks in the loam of the new broken sod <br> Betwixt them and their mother! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Betwixt them and the true one who loved us in truth, <br>Who bore them, and died ’mid the hopes of her youth! <br>Who would live in a world where nor anguish nor ruth <br> May avail the bereaved ones. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet must I live, lest her spirit should say, <br>Meeting mine in its flight from this vesture of clay, <br>“Where are our little ones? Where do they stay? <br> And why did you leave them?” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If for them only, then, so must it be, <br>See, I remain with them, Mary! but see <br>How lonely we stand in a world without thee! <br> Mary! oh Mary! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I live, but death’s shadow is over me cast; <br>And even when wearied woe sleepeth at last, <br>Some dream of the dead, sighing out of the past, <br> Is alive in the darkness! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Could I but weep, it were comfort, though brief; <br>But the fountain of tears by the fire of my grief <br>Hath been dried to its dregs, and can shed no relief <br> On the thirst of my eyelids. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As music that wasteth away on the blast, <br>As the last ray by the sunken sun cast, <br>All my heart’s gladness hath died in the past,— <br> Mary! oh Mary! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Harpur">Charles Harpur</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=354824" data-title="A Lament de Charles Harpur" data-description="Flowers in their freshness are flushing the earth, 
And the voice-peopled forest is loud in its mirth, 
And streams in their fulness are laughing at dearth— 
 Yet my bosom is aching. 
There’s shadow on all things—the shadow of woe— 
It fal..."></div>
</div>
</div>