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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416312" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On The Death Of Mr Aikman</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, could I draw, my friend, thy genuine mind,<br>Just as the living forms by thee designed;<br>Of Raphael's figures none should fairer shine,<br>Nor Titian's colours longer last than mine.<br>A mind in wisdom old, in lenience young,<br>From fervent truth where every virtue sprung;<br>Where all was real, modest, plain, sincere;<br>Worth above show, and goodness unsevere.<br>Viewed round and round, as lucid diamonds throw<br>Still as you turn them a revolving glow,<br>So did his mind reflect with secret ray,<br>In various virtues, Heaven's internal day;<br>Whether in high discourse it soared sublime,<br>And sprung impatient o'er the bounds of Time, <br>Or wandering nature through with raptured eye,<br>Adored the hand that turned yon azure sky;<br>Whether to social life he bent his thought, <br>And the right poise of mingling passions sought<br>Gay converse blessed; or in the thoughtful grove<br>Bid the heart open every source of love;<br>New varying lights still set before your eyes<br>The just, the good, the social, or the wise.<br>For such a death who can, who would refuse<br>The friend a tear, a verse the mournful muse? <br>Yet pay we just acknowledgment to heaven,<br>Though snatched so soon, that Aikman e'er was given.<br>A friend, when dead, is but removed from sight,<br>Hid in the lustre of eternal light;<br>Oft with the mind he wonted converse keeps<br>In the lone walk, or when the body sleeps<br>Lets in a wandering ray, and all elate<br>Wings and attracts her to another state;<br>And, when the parting storms of life are o'er, <br>May yet rejoin him in a happier shore.<br>As those we love, decay, we die in part,<br>String after string is severed from the heart;<br>Till loosened life at last - but breathing clay,<br>Without one pang, is gald to fall away.<br>Unhappy he who latest feels the blow,<br>Whose eyes have wept o'er every friend laid low,<br>Dragged lingering on from partial death to death;<br>And dying, all he can resign is breath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Thomson">James Thomson</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=416312" data-title="On The Death Of Mr Aikman de James Thomson" data-description="Oh, could I draw, my friend, thy genuine mind,
Just as the living forms by thee designed;
Of Raphael's figures none should fairer shine,
Nor Titian's colours longer last than mine.
A mind in wisdom old, in lenience young,
From fervent truth where ..."></div>
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