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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=359070" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On An Old Sepuchral Bas-Relief</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WHERE IS SEEN A YOUNG MAIDEN, DEAD, IN THE ACT OF DEPARTING,<br>TAKING LEAVE OF HER FAMILY.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Where goest thou? Who calls<br>Thee from my dear ones far away?<br>Most lovely maiden, say!<br>Alone, a wanderer, dost thou leave<br>Thy father's roof so soon?<br>Wilt thou unto its threshold e'er return?<br>Wilt thou make glad one day,<br>Those, who now round thee, weeping, mourn?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fearless thine eye, and spirited thy act;<br>And yet thou, too, art sad.<br>If pleasant or unpleasant be the road,<br>If gay or gloomy be the new abode,<br>To which thou journeyest, indeed,<br>In that grave face, how difficult to read!<br>Ah, hard to me the problem still hath seemed;<br>Not hath the world, perhaps, yet understood,<br>If thou beloved, or hated by the gods,<br>If happy, or unhappy shouldst be deemed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death calls thee; in thy morn of life,<br>Its latest breath. Unto the nest<br>Thou leavest, thou wilt ne'er return; wilt ne'er<br>The faces of thy kindred more behold;<br>And under ground,<br>The place to which thou goest will be found;<br>And for all time will be thy sojourn there.<br>Happy, perhaps, thou art: but he must sigh<br>Who, thoughtful, contemplates thy destiny.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ne'er to have seen the light, e'en at the time,<br>I think; but, born, e'en at the time,<br>When regal beauty all her charms displays,<br>Alike in form and face,<br>And at her feet the admiring world<br>Its distant homage pays;<br>When every hope is in its flower,<br>Long, long ere dreary winter flash<br>His baleful gleams against the joyous brow;<br>Like vapor gathered in the summer cloud,<br>That melting in the evening sky is seen<br>To disappear, as if one ne'er had been;<br>And to exchange the brilliant days to come,<br>For the dark silence of the tomb;<br>The intellect, indeed,<br>May call this, happiness; but still<br>It may the stoutest breasts with pity fill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou mother, dreaded and deplored<br>From birth, by all the world that lives,<br>Nature, ungracious miracle,<br>That bringest forth and nourishest, to kill,<br>If death untimely be an evil thing,<br>Why on these innocent heads<br>Wilt thou that evil bring?<br>If good, why, why,<br>Beyond all other misery,<br>To him who goes, to him who must remain,<br>Hast thou such parting crowned with hopeless pain?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wretched, where'er we look,<br>Whichever way we turn,<br>Thy suffering children are!<br>Thee it hath pleased, that youthful hope<br>Should ever be by life beguiled;<br>The current of our years with woes be filled,<br>And death against all ills the only shield:<br>And this inevitable seal,<br>And this immutable decree,<br>Hast thou assigned to human destiny,<br>Why, after such a painful race,<br>Should not the goal, at least,<br>Present to us a cheerful face?<br>Why that, which we in constant view,<br>Must, while we live, forever bear,<br>Sole comfort in our hour of need,<br>Thus dress in weeds of woe,<br>And gird with shadows so,<br>And make the friendly port to us appear<br>More frightful than the tempest drear?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If death, indeed, be a calamity,<br>Which thou intendest for us all,<br>Whom thou, against our knowledge and our will,<br>Hast forced to draw this mortal breath,<br>Then, surely, he who dies,<br>A lot more enviable hath<br>Then he who feels his loved one's death.<br>But, if the truth it be,<br>As I most firmly think,<br>That life is the calamity,<br>And death the boon, alas! who ever _could_,<br>What yet he _should_,<br>Desire the dying day of those so dear,<br>That he may linger here,<br>Of his best self deprived,<br>May see across his threshold borne,<br>The form beloved of her,<br>With whom so many years he lived,<br>And say to her farewell,<br>Without the hope of meeting here again;<br>And then alone on earth to dwell,<br>And, looking round, the hours and places all,<br>Of lost companionship recall?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, Nature! how, how _couldst_ thou have the heart,<br>From the friend's arms the friend to tear,<br>The brother from the brother part,<br>The father from the child,<br>The lover from his love,<br>And, killing one, the other keep alive?<br>What dire necessity<br>Compels such misery<br>That lover should the loved one e'er survive?<br>But Nature in her cruel dealings still,<br>Pays little heed unto our good or ill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Count+Giacomo+Leopardi">Count Giacomo Leopardi</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=359070" data-title="On An Old Sepuchral Bas-Relief de Count Giacomo Leopardi" data-description="WHERE IS SEEN A YOUNG MAIDEN, DEAD, IN THE ACT OF DEPARTING,
TAKING LEAVE OF HER FAMILY.


Where goest thou? Who calls
Thee from my dear ones far away?
Most lovely maiden, say!
Alone, a wanderer, dost thou leave
Thy father's roof so soon?
Wilt tho..."></div>
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