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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384685" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Suicide</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Last was the wealth I carried in life's pack-<br>Youth, health, ambition, hope and trust but Time<br>And Fate, those robbers fit for any crime<br>Stole all, and left me but the empty sack.<br>Before me lay a long and lonely track<br>Of darkling hills and barren steeps to climb;<br>Behind me lay in shadows the sublime<br>Lost lands of Love's delight. Alack! Alack!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Unwearied, and with springing steps elate,<br>I had conveyed my wealth along the road.<br>The empty sack proved now a heavier load:<br>I was borne down beneath its worthless weight.<br>I stumbled on, and knocked at Death's dark gate.<br>There was no answer. Stung by sorrow's goad<br>I <br>forced<br>my way into that grim abode,<br>And laughed, and flung Life's empty sack to Fate</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Unknown and uninvited I passed in<br>To that strange land that hangs between two goals,<br>Round which a dark and solemn river rolls-<br>More dread its silence than the loud earth's din.<br>And now, where was the peace I hoped to win?<br>Black-masted ships slid past me in great shoals,<br>Their bloody decks thronged with mistaken souls.<br>(God punishes mistakes sometimes like sin.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Not rest and not oblivion I found.<br>My suffering self dwelt with me just the same;<br>But here no sleep was, and no sweet dreams came<br>To give me respite. Tyrant Death, uncrowned<br>By my own hand, still King of Terrors, frowned<br>Upon my shuddering soul, that shrank in shame<br>Before those eyes where sorrow blent with blame,<br>And those accusing lips that made no sound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>What gruesome shapes dawned on my startled sight!<br>What awful sighs broke on my listening ear!<br>The anguish of the earth, augmented here<br>A thousand-fold, made one continuous night.<br>The sack I flung away in impious spite<br>Hung yet upon me, filled. I saw in fear,<br>With tears that rained from earth's adjacent sphere,<br>And turned to stones in falling from that height.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And close about me pressed a grieving throng,<br>Each with his heavy sack, which bowed him so<br>His face was hidden. One of these mourned: 'Know<br>Who enters here but finds the way more long<br>To those fair realms where sounds the angels' song<br>There is no man-made exit out of woe;<br>Ye cannot dash the locked door down and go<br>To claim thy rightful joy through paths of wrong.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He passed into the shadows dim and gray,<br>And left me to pursue my path alone.<br>With terror greater than I yet had known.<br>Hard on my soul the awful knowledge lay,<br>Death had not ended life nor found God's way;<br>But, with my same sad sorrows still my own,<br>Where by-roads led to by-roads, thistle-sown,<br>I had but wandered off and gone astray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>With earth still near enough to hear its sighs,<br>With heaven afar and hell but just below,<br>Still on and on my lonely soul must go<br>Until I earn the right to Paradise.<br>We cannot force our way into God's skies,<br>Nor rush into the rest we long to know;<br>But patiently, with bleeding steps and slow,<br>Toil on to where selfhood in Godhood dies.</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=384685" data-title="The Suicide de Ella Wheeler Wilcox" data-description="Last was the wealth I carried in life's pack-
Youth, health, ambition, hope and trust but Time
And Fate, those robbers fit for any crime
Stole all, and left me but the empty sack.
Before me lay a long and lonely track
Of darkling hills and barren ..."></div>
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