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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408463" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>AThe Anniverse. AN ELEGY.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">So soon grown old! hast thou been six years dead? <br>Poor earth, once by my Love inhabited! <br>And must I live to calculate the time <br>To which thy blooming youth could never climbe, <br>But fell in the ascent! yet have not I <br>Studi'd enough thy losses history. <br>How happy were mankind if Death's strict lawes <br>Consum'd our lamentations like the cause! <br>Or that our grief turning to dust might end <br>With the dissolved body of a friend! <br>But sacred Heaven! O how just thou art <br>In stamping deaths impression on that heart <br>Which through thy favours would grow insolent, <br>Were it not physick't by sharp discontent. <br>If then it stand resolv'd in thy decree <br>That still I must doom'd to a Desart be <br>Sprung out of my lone thoughts, which know no path <br>But what my own misfortune beaten hath: <br>If thou wilt bind me living to a coarse, <br>And I must slowly waste; I then of force <br>Stoop to thy great appointment, and obey <br>That will which nought avail me to gainsay. <br>For whil'st in sorrowes Maze I wander on, <br>I do but follow lifes vocation. <br>Sure we were made to grieve: at our first birth <br>With cries we took possession of the earth; <br>And though the lucky man reputed be <br>Fortunes adopted son, yet onely he <br>Is Natures true born child, who summes his years <br>(Like me) with no Arithmetick but tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+King">Henry King</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=408463" data-title="AThe Anniverse. AN ELEGY. de Henry King" data-description="So soon grown old! hast thou been six years dead? 
Poor earth, once by my Love inhabited! 
And must I live to calculate the time 
To which thy blooming youth could never climbe, 
But fell in the ascent! yet have not I 
Studi'd enough thy losses hi..."></div>
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