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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384396" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>From the Grave</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the first sere leaves of the year were falling,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I heard, with a heart that was strangely thrilled,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out of the grave of a dead Past calling,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A voice I fancied forever stilled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All through winter and spring and summer,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silence hung over that grave like a pall,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, borne on the breath of the last sad comer,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I listen again to the old-time call.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is only a love of a by-gone season,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A senseless folly that mocked at me</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A reckless passion that lacked all reason,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So I killed it, and hid it where none could see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I smothered it first to stop its crying,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then stabbed it through with a good sharp blade,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And cold and pallid I saw it lying,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And deep—ah' deep was the grave I made.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now I know that there is no killing</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A thing like Love, for it laughs at Death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is no hushing, there is no stilling</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That which is part of your life and breath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You may bury it deep, and leave behind you</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The land, the people, that knew your slain;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It will push the sods from its grave, and find you</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On wastes of water or desert plain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You may hear but tongues of a foreign people,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You may list to sounds that are strange and new;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, clear as a silver bell in a steeple,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That voice from the grave shall call to you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You may rouse your pride, you may use your reason.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And seem for a space to slay Love so;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, all in its own good time and season,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It will rise and follow wherever you go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You shall sit sometimes, when the leaves are falling,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alone with your heart, as I sit to-day,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And hear that voice from your dead Past calling</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out of the graves that you hid away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ella+Wheeler+Wilcox">Ella Wheeler Wilcox</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=384396" data-title="From the Grave de Ella Wheeler Wilcox" data-description="When the first sere leaves of the year were falling,

I heard, with a heart that was strangely thrilled,

Out of the grave of a dead Past calling,

A voice I fancied forever stilled.

All through winter and spring and summer,

Silence hung over th..."></div>
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