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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=381418" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Poor Relation</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No longer torn by what she knows <br>And sees within the eyes of others, <br>Her doubts are when the daylight goes, <br>Her fears are for the few she bothers. <br>She tells them it is wholly wrong<br>Of her to stay alive so long; <br>And when she smiles her forehead shows <br>A crinkle that had been her mother’s. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beneath her beauty, blanched with pain, <br>And wistful yet for being cheated,<br>A child would seem to ask again <br>A question many times repeated; <br>But no rebellion has betrayed <br>Her wonder at what she has paid <br>For memories that have no stain,<br>For triumph born to be defeated. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To those who come for what she was— <br>The few left who know where to find her— <br>She clings, for they are all she has; <br>And she may smile when they remind her,<br>As heretofore, of what they know <br>Of roses that are still to blow <br>By ways where not so much as grass <br>Remains of what she sees behind her. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They stay a while, and having done<br>What penance or the past requires, <br>They go, and leave her there alone <br>To count her chimneys and her spires. <br>Her lip shakes when they go away, <br>And yet she would not have them stay;<br>She knows as well as anyone <br>That Pity, having played, soon tires. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But one friend always reappears, <br>A good ghost, not to be forsaken; <br>Whereat she laughs and has no fears<br>Of what a ghost may reawaken, <br>But welcomes, while she wears and mends <br>The poor relation’s odds and ends, <br>Her truant from a tomb of years— <br>Her power of youth so early taken.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor laugh, more slender than her song <br>It seems; and there are none to hear it <br>With even the stopped ears of the strong <br>For breaking heart or broken spirit. <br>The friends who clamored for her place,<br>And would have scratched her for her face, <br>Have lost her laughter for so long <br>That none would care enough to fear it. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">None live who need fear anything <br>From her, whose losses are their pleasure;<br>The plover with a wounded wing <br>Stays not the flight that others measure; <br>So there she waits, and while she lives, <br>And death forgets, and faith forgives, <br>Her memories go foraging<br>For bits of childhood song they treasure. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And like a giant harp that hums <br>On always, and is always blending <br>The coming of what never comes <br>With what has past and had an ending,<br>The City trembles, throbs, and pounds <br>Outside, and through a thousand sounds <br>The small intolerable drums <br>Of Time are like slow drops descending. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bereft enough to shame a sage<br>And given little to long sighing, <br>With no illusion to assuage <br>The lonely changelessness of dying,— <br>Unsought, unthought-of, and unheard, <br>She sings and watches like a bird,<br>Safe in a comfortable cage <br>From which there will be no more flying.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edwin+Arlington+Robinson">Edwin Arlington Robinson</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=381418" data-title="The Poor Relation de Edwin Arlington Robinson" data-description="No longer torn by what she knows 
And sees within the eyes of others, 
Her doubts are when the daylight goes, 
Her fears are for the few she bothers. 
She tells them it is wholly wrong
Of her to stay alive so long; 
And when she smiles her forehea..."></div>
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