<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355278" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Written Christmas Day 1797</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am a widow'd thing, now thou art gone!<br>Now thou art gone, my own familiar friend,<br>Companion, sister, help-mate, counsellor!<br>Alas! that honour'd mind, whose sweet reproof<br>And meekest wisdom in times past have smooth'd<br>The unfilial harshness of my foolish speech,<br>And made me loving to my parents old,<br>(Why is this so, ah God! why is this so?)<br>That honour'd mind become a fearful blank,<br>Her senses lock'd up, and herself kept out<br>From human sight or converse, while so many<br>Of the foolish sort are left to roam at large,<br>Doing all acts of folly, and sin, and shame?<br>Thy paths are mystery!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Yet I will not think,<br>Sweet friend, but we shall one day meet, and live<br>In quietness, and die so, fearing God.<br>Or if not, and these false suggestions be<br>A fit of the weak nature, loth to part<br>With what it lov'd so long, and held so dear;<br>If thou art to be taken, and I left<br>(More sinning, yet unpunish'd, save in thee),<br>It is the will of God, and we are clay<br>In the potter's hands; and, at the worst, are made<br>From absolute nothing, vessels of disgrace,<br>Till, his most righteous purpose wrought in us,<br>Our purified spirits find their perfect rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Lamb">Charles Lamb</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=355278" data-title="Written Christmas Day 1797 de Charles Lamb" data-description="I am a widow'd thing, now thou art gone! Now thou art gone, my own familiar friend, Companion, sister, help-mate, counsellor! Alas! that honour'd mind, whose sweet reproof And meekest wisdom in times past have smooth'd The unfilial harshness of my..."></div> </div> </div>

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