Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416554" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Out-Worn Sappho</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">How tired I am! I sink down all alone<br>Here by the wayside of the Present. Lo,<br>Even as a child I hide my face and moan--<br>A little girl that may no farther go;<br>The path above me only seems to grow<br>More rugged, climbing still, and ever briered<br>With keener thorns of pain than these below;<br>And O the bleeding feet that falter so<br>And are so very tired!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why, I have journeyed from the far-off Lands<br>Of Babyhood--where baby-lilies blew<br>Their trumpets in mine ears, and filled my hands<br>With treasures of perfume and honey-dew,<br>And where the orchard shadows ever drew<br>Their cool arms round me when my cheeks were fired<br>With too much joy, and lulled mine eyelids to,<br>And only let the starshine trickle through<br>In sprays, when I was tired!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet I remember, when the butterfly<br>Went flickering about me like a flame<br>That quenched itself in roses suddenly,<br>How oft I wished that _I_ might blaze the same,<br>And in some rose-wreath nestle with my name,<br>While all the world looked on it and admired.--<br>Poor moth!--Along my wavering flight toward fame<br>The winds drive backward, and my wings are lame<br>And broken, bruised and tired!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hardly know the path from those old times;<br>I know at first it was a smoother one<br>Than this that hurries past me now, and climbs<br>So high, its far cliffs even hide the sun<br>And shroud in gloom my journey scarce begun.<br>I could not do quite all the world required--<br>I could not do quite all I should have done,<br>And in my eagerness I have outrun<br>My strength--and I am tired....</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Just tired! But when of old I had the stay<br>Of mother-hands, O very sweet indeed<br>It was to dream that all the weary way<br>I should but follow where I now must lead--<br>For long ago they left me in my need,<br>And, groping on alone, I tripped and mired<br>Among rank grasses where the serpents breed<br>In knotted coils about the feet of speed.--<br>There first it was I tired.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet I staggered on, and bore my load<br>Right gallantly: The sun, in summer-time,<br>In lazy belts came slipping down the road<br>To woo me on, with many a glimmering rhyme<br>Rained from the golden rim of some fair clime,<br>That, hovering beyond the clouds, inspired<br>My failing heart with fancies so sublime<br>I half forgot my path of dust and grime,<br>Though I was growing tired.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there were many voices cheering me:<br>I listened to sweet praises where the wind<br>Went laughing o'er my shoulders gleefully<br>And scattering my love-songs far behind;--<br>Until, at last, I thought the world so kind--<br>So rich in all my yearning soul desired--<br>So generous--so loyally inclined,<br>I grew to love and trust it.... I was blind--<br>Yea, blind as I was tired!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet one hand held me in creature-touch:<br>And O, how fair it was, how true and strong,<br>How it did hold my heart up like a crutch,<br>Till, in my dreams, I joyed to walk along<br>The toilsome way, contented with a song--<br>'Twas all of earthly things I had acquired,<br>And 'twas enough, I feigned, or right or wrong,<br>Since, binding me to man--a mortal thong--<br>It stayed me, growing tired....</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, I had e'en resigned me to the strait<br>Of earthly rulership--had bowed my head<br>Acceptant of the master-mind--the great<br>One lover--lord of all,--the perfected<br>Kiss-comrade of my soul;--had stammering said<br>My prayers to him;--all--all that he desired<br>I rendered sacredly as we were wed.--<br>Nay--nay!--'twas but a myth I worshipped.--<br>And--God of love!--how tired!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For, O my friends, to lose the latest grasp--<br>To feel the last hope slipping from its hold--<br>To feel the one fond hand within your clasp<br>Fall slack, and loosen with a touch so cold<br>Its pressure may not warm you as of old<br>Before the light of love had thus expired--<br>To know your tears are worthless, though they rolled<br>Their torrents out in molten drops of gold.--<br>God's pity! I am tired!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I must rest.--Yet do not say 'She _died_,'<br>In speaking of me, sleeping here alone.<br>I kiss the grassy grave I sink beside,<br>And close mine eyes in slumber all mine own:<br>Hereafter I shall neither sob nor moan<br>Nor murmur one complaint;--all I desired,<br>And failed in life to find, will now be known--<br>So let me dream. Good night! And on the stone<br>Say simply: She was tired.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Whitcomb+Riley">James Whitcomb Riley</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=416554" data-title="An Out-Worn Sappho de James Whitcomb Riley" data-description="How tired I am! I sink down all alone
Here by the wayside of the Present. Lo,
Even as a child I hide my face and moan--
A little girl that may no farther go;
The path above me only seems to grow
More rugged, climbing still, and ever briered
With k..."></div>
</div>
</div>