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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=392058" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ultimum</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now in these last spent drops, slow, slower shed,<br>Love dies, Love dies, Love dies--ah, Love is dead!<br>Sad Love in life, sore Love in agony,<br>Pale Love in death; while all his offspring songs,<br>Like children, versed not in death's chilly wrongs,<br>About him flit, frighted to see him lie<br>So still, who did not know that Love could die.<br>One lifts his wing, where dulls the vermeil all<br>Like clotting blood, and shrinks to find it cold,<br>And when she sees its lapse and nerveless fall<br>Clasps her fans, while her sobs ooze through the webb-ed gold.<br>Thereat all weep together, and their tears<br>Make lights like shivered moonlight on long waters.<br>Have peace, O piteous daughters!<br>He shall not wake more through the mortal years,<br>Nor comfort come to my soul widow-ed,<br>Nor breath to your wild wings; for Love is dead!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I slew, that moan for him: he lifted me<br>Above myself, and that I might not be<br>Less than myself, need was that he should die;<br>Since Love that first did wing, now clogged me from the sky.<br>Yet lofty Love being dead thus passeth base--<br>There is a soul of nobleness which stays,<br>The spectre of the rose: be comforted,<br>Songs, for the dust that dims his sacred head!<br>The days draw on too dark for Song or Love;<br>O peace, my songs, nor stir ye any wing!<br>For lo, the thunder hushing all the grove,<br>And did Love live, not even Love could sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, Lady, thus I dare to say,<br>Not all with you is passed away!<br>For your love taught me this:-'tis Love's true praise<br>To be, not staff, but writ of worthy days;<br>And that high worth in love unfortunate<br>Should still remain it learned in love elate.<br>Beyond your star, still, still the stars are bright;<br>Beyond your highness, still I follow height;<br>Sole I go forth, yet still to my sad view,<br>Beyond your trueness, Lady, Truth stands true.<br>This wisdom sings my song with last firm breath,<br>Caught from the twisted lore of Love and Death,<br>The strange inwoven harmony that wakes<br>From Pallas' straying locks twined with her aegis-snakes.<br>'On him the unpetitioned heavens descend,<br>Who heaven on earth proposes not for end;<br>The perilous and celestial excess<br>Taking with peace, lacking with thankfulness.<br>Bliss in extreme befits thee not, until<br>Thou'rt not extreme in bliss; be equal still:<br>Sweets to be granted think thy self unmeet<br>Till thou have learned to hold sweet not too sweet.'<br>This thing not far is he from wise in art<br>Who teacheth; nor who doth, from wise in heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Francis+Thompson">Francis Thompson</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=392058" data-title="Ultimum de Francis Thompson" data-description="Now in these last spent drops, slow, slower shed,
Love dies, Love dies, Love dies--ah, Love is dead!
Sad Love in life, sore Love in agony,
Pale Love in death; while all his offspring songs,
Like children, versed not in death's chilly wrongs,
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