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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408865" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Memories They Bring</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would never waste the hours<br>Of the time that is mine own,<br>Writing verses about flowers<br>For their own sweet sakes alone;<br>Gushing as a schoolgirl gushes<br>Over babies at their best—<br>Or as poets trill of thrushes,<br>Larks, and starlings and the rest. <br>I am not a man who praises<br>Beauty that he cannot see,<br>But the buttercups and daisies<br>Bring my childhood back to me;<br>And before life’s bitter battle,<br>That breaks lion hearts and kills,<br>Oh the waratah and wattle<br>Saw my boyhood on the hills. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was “Cissy” or Cecilia,<br>And I loved her very much,<br>When I wore the white camelia<br>That will wither at a touch.<br>Ah, the fairest chapter closes<br>With lilies white and blue,<br>When the wild days with the roses<br>Cast their glamour over you! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Vine leaves fall and laurels wither<br>(Madd’ning drink and pride insane),<br>And the fate that sends us hither<br>Ever takes us back again.<br>Fading flowers—slow pulsations—<br>Flowers pressed for memory<br>But the red and pink carnations<br>Speak most bitter things to me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=408865" data-title="The Memories They Bring de Henry Lawson" data-description="I would never waste the hours Of the time that is mine own, Writing verses about flowers For their own sweet sakes alone; Gushing as a schoolgirl gushes Over babies at their best— Or as poets trill of thrushes, Larks, and starlings and the rest...."></div> </div> </div>
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