<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415286" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hope Beyond The Grave</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more;<br>I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you;<br>For morn is approaching, your charms to restore,<br>Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew:<br>Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn;<br>Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save,<br>But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn!<br>O when shall day dawn on the night of the grave!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas thus, by the glare of false science betray'd,<br>That leads, to bewilder; and dazzles, to blind;<br>My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade,<br>Destruction before me, and sorrow behind.<br>O pity, great Father of light, then I cried,<br>Thy creature, who fain would not wander from Thee;<br>Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish'd my pride:<br>From doubt and from darkness Thou only canst free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And darkness and doubt are now flying away,<br>No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn,<br>So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray,<br>The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.<br>See Truth, Love, and Mercy in triumph descending,<br>And Nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom!<br>On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,<br>And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Beattie">James Beattie</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=415286" data-title="Hope Beyond The Grave de James Beattie" data-description="'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more; I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew: Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn; Ki..."></div> </div> </div>

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