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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386503" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Self-Interrogation</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The evening passes fast away,<br>'Tis almost time to rest;<br>What thoughts has left the vanished day,<br>What feelings, in thy breast? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;The vanished day? It leaves a sense <br>Of labour hardly done;<br>Of little, gained with vast expense, -<br>A sense of grief alone! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Time stands before the door of Death,<br>Upbraiding bitterly;<br>And Conscience, with exhaustless breath,<br>Pours black reproach on me: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;And though I've said that Conscience lies,<br>And Time should Fate condemn;<br>Still, sad Repentance clouds my eyes,<br>And makes me yield to them! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Then art thou glad to seek repose?<br>Art glad to leave the sea,<br>And anchor all thy weary woes<br>In calm Eternity? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Nothing regrets to see thee go -<br>Not one voice sobs &quot;farewell,&quot;<br>And where thy heart has suffered so,<br>Canst thou desire to dwell?&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Alas! The countless links are strong <br>That bind us to our clay;<br>The loving spirit lingers long,<br>And would not pass away! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;And rest is sweet, when laurelled fame<br>Will crown the soldier's crest;<br>But, a brave heart, with a tarnished name,<br>Would rather fight than rest.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Well, thou hast fought for many a year,<br>Hast fought thy whole life through,<br>Hast humbled Falsehood, trampled Fear;<br>What is there left to do?&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;'Tis true, this arm has hotly striven,<br>Has dared what few would dare;<br>Much have I done, and freely given,<br>But little learnt to bear!&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Look on the grave, where thou must sleep,<br>Thy last, and strongest foe;<br>It is endurance not to weep,<br>If that repose seem woe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;The long war closing in defeat,<br>Defeat serenely borne,<br>Thy midnight rest may still be sweet,<br>And break in glorious morn!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emily+Jane+Bront%C3%AB">Emily Jane Brontë</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=386503" data-title="Self-Interrogation de Emily Jane Brontë" data-description="The evening passes fast away,
'Tis almost time to rest;
What thoughts has left the vanished day,
What feelings, in thy breast? 

&quot;The vanished day? It leaves a sense 
Of labour hardly done;
Of little, gained with vast expense, -
A sense of gr..."></div>
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