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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=356185" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Thread of Life</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>The irresponsive silence of the land, <br>The irresponsive sounding of the sea, <br>Speak both one message of one sense to me:--<br>Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand<br>Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band<br>Of inner solitude; we bind not thee;<br>But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free?<br>What heart shall touch thy heart? what hand thy hand?--<br>And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek,<br>And sometimes I remember days of old<br>When fellowship seemed not so far to seek<br>And all the world and I seemed much less cold,<br>And at the rainbow's foot lay surely gold,<br>And hope felt strong and life itself not weak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II<br>Thus am I mine own prison. Everything<br>Around me free and sunny and at ease:<br>Or if in shadow, in a shade of trees<br>Which the sun kisses, where the gay birds sing<br>And where all winds make various murmuring;<br>Where bees are found, with honey for the bees;<br>Where sounds are music, and where silences<br>Are music of an unlike fashioning.<br>Then gaze I at the merrymaking crew,<br>And smile a moment and a moment sigh<br>Thinking: Why can I not rejoice with you?<br>But soon I put the foolish fancy by:<br>I am not what I have nor what I do;<br>But what I was I am, I am even I. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">III<br>Therefore myself is that one only thing<br>I hold to use or waste, to keep or give;<br>My sole possession every day I live, <br>And still mine own despite Time's winnowing.<br>Ever mine own, while moons and seasons bring<br>From crudeness ripeness mellow and sanitive;<br>Ever mine own, till Death shall ply his sieve;<br>And still mine own, when saints break grave and sing.<br>And this myself as king unto my King<br>I give, to Him Who gave Himself for me;<br>Who gives Himself to me, and bids me sing<br>A sweet new song of His redeemed set free;<br>he bids me sing: O death, where is thy sting?<br>And sing: O grave, where is thy victory?</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>
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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=356185" data-title="The Thread of Life de Christina Georgina Rossetti" data-description="I
The irresponsive silence of the land, 
The irresponsive sounding of the sea, 
Speak both one message of one sense to me:--
Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand
Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band
Of inner solitude; we bind not thee;
Bu..."></div>
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