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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=511216" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Choriambics I</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! not now, when desire burns, and the wind calls, and the suns of spring<br>Light-foot dance in the woods, whisper of life, woo me to wayfaring;<br>Ah! not now should you come, now when the road beckons,<br>and good friends call,<br>Where are songs to be sung, fights to be fought, yea! and the best of all,<br>Love, on myriad lips fairer than yours, kisses you could not give! . . .<br>Dearest, why should I mourn, whimper, and whine, I that have yet to live?<br>Sorrow will I forget, tears for the best, love on the lips of you,<br>Now, when dawn in the blood wakes, and the sun laughs up the eastern blue;<br>I'll forget and be glad!<br>Only at length, dear, when the great day ends,<br>When love dies with the last light, and the last song has been sung,<br>and friends<br>All are perished, and gloom strides on the heaven: then, as alone I lie,<br>'Mid Death's gathering winds, frightened and dumb, sick for the past, may I<br>Feel you suddenly there, cool at my brow; then may I hear the peace<br>Of your voice at the last, whispering love, calling, ere all can cease<br>In the silence of death; then may I see dimly, and know, a space,<br>Bending over me, last light in the dark, once, as of old, your face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rupert+Brooke">Rupert Brooke</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=511216" data-title="Choriambics I de Rupert Brooke" data-description="Ah! not now, when desire burns, and the wind calls, and the suns of spring
Light-foot dance in the woods, whisper of life, woo me to wayfaring;
Ah! not now should you come, now when the road beckons,
and good friends call,
Where are songs to be su..."></div>
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