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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472430" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>From A Bachelor’s Private Journal</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">SWEET Mary, I have never breathed<br>The love it were in vain to name;<br>Though round my heart a serpent wreathed,<br>I smiled, or strove to smile, the same.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once more the pulse of Nature glows<br>With faster throb and fresher fire,<br>While music round her pathway flows,<br>Like echoes from a hidden lyre.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And is there none with me to share<br>The glories of the earth and sky?<br>The eagle through the pathless air<br>Is followed by one burning eye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah no! the cradled flowers may wake,<br>Again may flow the frozen sea,<br>From every cloud a star may break,--<br>There conies no second spring to me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go,--ere the painted toys of youth<br>Are crushed beneath the tread of years;<br>Ere visions have been chilled to truth,<br>And hopes are washed away in tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go,--for I will not bid thee weep,--<br>Too soon my sorrows will be thine,<br>And evening's troubled air shall sweep<br>The incense from the broken shrine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If Heaven can hear the dying tone<br>Of chords that soon will cease to thrill,<br>The prayer that Heaven has heard alone<br>May bless thee when those chords are still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oliver+Wendell+Holmes">Oliver Wendell Holmes</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=472430" data-title="From A Bachelor’s Private Journal de Oliver Wendell Holmes" data-description="SWEET Mary, I have never breathed
The love it were in vain to name;
Though round my heart a serpent wreathed,
I smiled, or strove to smile, the same.

Once more the pulse of Nature glows
With faster throb and fresher fire,
While music round her pa..."></div>
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