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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354843" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Cora</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of Cora, once so dearly ours, <br> Would mournful memory sing; <br>Of how she came when came the flowers, <br> To leave us with the spring. <br>That day (returned) which gave her breath <br> Was that whereon she died, <br>And o’er the pangs of birth and death <br> Passed blooming as a bride. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The spring it came, with never a storm, <br> And nine times came and went, <br>Till its whole spirit with her form <br> In budding beauty blent. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, till its sentiment was wreathed <br> About her eye it came, <br>And all its foregone influence breathed <br> At mention of her name. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And aye her soul, her inward worth, <br> Flushed out in subtle glows, <br>As from its heart come mantling forth <br> The ardours of a rose. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was a glory from within <br> That made her face so fair, <br>A radiant spirit void of sin <br> Was working outward there. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her locks as they were burnished shone <br> In many a massy fold, <br>Or fell in their profusion down <br> Like bursting sheaves of gold. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bright garments of a spirit bright, <br> That even in the shroud <br>Were like the sunset’s aureate light <br> Within a lifeless cloud. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When she, our angel of the sun, <br> Had spread her wings in flight, <br>Ah, still would mournful memory sing <br> Of her, our lost delight! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Child with full orbs of heaven-deep blue <br> Illumined violet, <br>So richly gentle—touched with dew, <br> Befringed with glossy jet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When with the spring we saw depart <br> Those eyes, those tresses curled, <br>Then summer dying in love’s heart, <br> To winger left the world. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, soul that wore the snowy brow, <br> And gentle shining eyes, <br>Our song hath aye this burden now <br> Beneath the vernal skies. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In vain the dews of heaven are shed <br> Where blight hath been before; <br>So vainly weep we o’er the dead, <br> But only weep the more. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet from the bright time of her birth <br> And death, does faith construe <br>How, like the spring, though not on earth, <br> Our joy shall bloom anew. </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>
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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=354843" data-title="Cora de Charles Harpur" data-description="Of Cora, once so dearly ours, 
 Would mournful memory sing; 
Of how she came when came the flowers, 
 To leave us with the spring. 
That day (returned) which gave her breath 
 Was that whereon she died, 
And o’er the pangs of birth and death 
 P..."></div>
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