<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374010" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Cul-De-Sac</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">COULD I hope that when the brain, <br>Tired of questions answerless, <br>Shall slip off the bonds of pain <br>That enslave it and possess, <br>I should know how little worth <br>Were the little things of earth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Does it matter,' could I say, <br>'Whether she were false or true? <br>Whether life was gold or grey? <br>Whether skies were grey or blue? <br>All this matters less, it seems, <br>Than the threads of broken dreams.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>We may long to rest from strife, <br>Cease to question or to grieve; <br>But the sharpest ills of life <br>Nothing will reverse, retrieve; <br>For when we at last have rest, <br>We shall know not we are blest. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>While we know, we have the ache; <br>Consciousness with pain will cease. <br>Sleep's joy comes not while we wake-- <br>Night of life means dawn of peace, <br>But of peace which cannot be <br>Ever known by her or me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Bow the back beneath the cross, <br>Stagger on a few steps more, <br>Bear the doubt, the strain, the loss, <br>As we had to do before! <br>When at last the burdens fall, <br>We shall know it not at all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edith+Nesbit">Edith Nesbit</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=374010" data-title="Cul-De-Sac de Edith Nesbit" data-description="COULD I hope that when the brain, Tired of questions answerless, Shall slip off the bonds of pain That enslave it and possess, I should know how little worth Were the little things of earth. 'Does it matter,' could I say, 'Whether she wer..."></div> </div> </div>

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