<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420853" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To My Friend On The Death Of His Sister</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thine is a grief, the depth of which another<br>May never know;<br>Yet, o'er the waters, O my stricken brother!<br>To thee I go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I lean my heart unto thee, sadly folding<br>Thy hand in mine;<br>With even the weakness of my soul upholding<br>The strength of thine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I never knew, like thee, the dear departed;<br>I stood not by<br>When, in calm trust, the pure and tranquil-hearted<br>Lay down to die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And on thy ears my words of weak condoling<br>Must vainly fall<br>The funeral bell which in thy heart is tolling,<br>Sounds over all!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I will not mock thee with the poor world's common<br>And heartless phrase,<br>Nor wrong the memory of a sainted woman<br>With idle praise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With silence only as their benediction,<br>God's angels come<br>Where, in the shadow of a great affliction,<br>The soul sits dumb!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, would I say what thy own heart approveth<br>Our Father's will,<br>Calling to Him the dear one whom He loveth,<br>Is mercy still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not upon thee or thine the solemn angel<br>Hath evil wrought<br>Her funeral anthem is a glad evangel,--<br>The good die not!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly<br>What He hath given;<br>They live on earth, in thought and deed, as truly<br>As in His heaven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And she is with thee; in thy path of trial<br>She walketh yet;<br>Still with the baptism of thy self-denial<br>Her locks are wet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Up, then, my brother! Lo, the fields of harvest<br>Lie white in view<br>She lives and loves thee, and the God thou servest<br>To both is true.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thrust in thy sickle! England's toilworn peasants<br>Thy call abide;<br>And she thou mourn'st, a pure and holy presence,<br>Shall glean beside!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</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=420853" data-title="To My Friend On The Death Of His Sister de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="Thine is a grief, the depth of which another/May never know;/Yet, o'er the waters, O my stricken brother!/To thee I go./I lean my heart unto thee, sadly folding/Thy hand in mine;/With even the weakness of my soul upholding/The strength of thine./I..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black