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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408187" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Declining Days</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why do I sigh to find <br>Life's evening shadows gathering round my way? <br>The keen eye dimming, and the buoyant mind <br>Unhinging day by day? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is it the natural dread <br>Of that stern lot, which all who live must see? <br>The worm, the clay, the dark and narrow bed, -- <br>Have these such awe for me? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Can I not summon pride <br>To fold, my decent mantle round my breast; <br>And lay me down at Nature's eventide, <br>Calm to my dreamless rest? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As nears my soul the verge <br>Of this dim continent of woe and crime, <br>Shrinks she to hear Eternity's long surge <br>Break o'er the shores of time? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Asks she, how shall she fare <br>When conscience stands before the judge's throne, <br>And gives her record in, and all shall there <br>Know, as they all are known? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A solemn scene and time -- <br>And well may Nature quail to feel them near --<br>But grace in feeble breasts can work sublime, <br>And faith overmaster fear! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hark I from that throne comes down <br>A voice which strength to sinking souls can give, <br>That voice all judgment's thunders cannot drown; <br>'Believe,' it cries, 'and live.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Weak-sinful, as I am, <br>That still small voice forbids me to despond <br>Faith clings for refuge to thebleeding Lamb, <br>Nor dreads the gloom beyond. --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis not, then, earth's delights <br>From which my spirit feels so loath to part; <br>Nor the dim future's solemn sounds or sights, <br>That press so on my heart. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No I 'tis the thought that I --<br>My lamp so low, my sun so nearly set, <br>Have lived so useless, so unmissed should lie <br>'Tis this, I now regret. --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would not be the wave, <br>That swells and ripples up to yonder shore <br>That drives impulsive on, the wild wind's slave, <br>And breaks, and is no more! --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would not be the breeze, <br>That murmers by me in its viewless play, <br>Bends the light grass, and flutters in the trees, <br>And sighs and flits away! --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No I not like wave or wind <br>Be my career across the earthly scene <br>To come and go, and leave no trace behind, <br>To say that I have been. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I want not vulgar fame --<br>I seek not to survive in brass or stone <br>Hearts may not kindle when they hear my name, <br>Nor tears my value own. --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But might I leave behind <br>Some blessing for my fellows, some fair trust <br>To guide, to cheer, to elevate my kind <br>When I am in the dust. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within my narrow bed,<br>Might I not wholly mute or useless be;<br>But hope that they, who trampled o'er my head,<br>Drew still some good from me!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Might my poor lyre but give <br>Some simple strain, some spirit-moving lay; <br>Some sparklet of the soul, that still might live <br>When I have passed to clay! --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Might verse of mine inspire <br>One virtuous aim, one high resolve impart; <br>Light in one drooping soul a hallowed fire, <br>Or bind one broken heart. --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death would be sweeter then, <br>More calm my slumber 'neath the silent sod; <br>Might I thus live to bless my fellow-men, <br>Or glorify my God. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why do we ever lose, <br>As judgment ripens, our diviner powers <br>Why do we only learn our gifts to use, <br>When they no more are ours? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Thou whose touch can lend <br>Life to the dead, Thy quick'ning grace supply, <br>And grant me, swanlike, my last breath to spend <br>In song that may not die!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Francis+Lyte">Henry Francis Lyte</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=408187" data-title="Declining Days de Henry Francis Lyte" data-description="Why do I sigh to find 
Life's evening shadows gathering round my way? 
The keen eye dimming, and the buoyant mind 
Unhinging day by day? 

Is it the natural dread 
Of that stern lot, which all who live must see? 
The worm, the clay, the dark and n..."></div>
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