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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355973" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At Home</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When I was dead, my spirit turned<br>To seek the much-frequented house:<br>I passed the door, and saw my friends<br>Feasting beneath green orange boughs;<br>From hand to hand they pushed the wine,<br>They sucked the pulp of plum and peach;<br>They sang, they jested, and they laughed,<br>For each was loved of each.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I listened to thier honest chat:<br>Said one: "To-morrow we shall be<br>Plod plod along the featureless sands,<br>And coasting miles and miles of sea."<br>Said one: "Before the turn of tide<br>We will achieve the eyrie-seat."<br>Said one: "To-morrow shall be like<br>To-day, but much more sweet."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"To-morrow," said they, strong with hope,<br>And dwelt upon the pleasant way:<br>"To-morrow," cried they, one and all,<br>While no one spoke of yesterday.<br>Their life stood full at blessed noon;<br>I, only I, had passed away:<br>"To-morrow and to-day," they cried;<br>I was of yesterday.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I shivered comfortless, but cast<br>No chill across the table-cloth;<br>I, all-forgotten, shivered, sad<br>To stay, and yet to part how loth:<br>I passed from the familiar room,<br>I who from love had passed away,<br>Like the remembrance of a guest<br>That tarrieth but a day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Christina+Georgina+Rossetti">Christina Georgina Rossetti</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=355973" data-title="At Home de Christina Georgina Rossetti" data-description="When I was dead, my spirit turned To seek the much-frequented house: I passed the door, and saw my friends Feasting beneath green orange boughs; From hand to hand they pushed the wine, They sucked the pulp of plum and peach; They sang, they jested..."></div> </div> </div>
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