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=519584" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Ocean To Cynthia</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">But stay, my thoughts, make end, give fortune way ;<br> Harsh is the voice of woe and sorrow's sound ;<br>Complaints cure not, and tears do but allay<br> Griefs for a time, which after more abound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To seek for moisture in the Arabian sand<br> Is but a loss of labor and of rest ;<br>The links which time did break of hearty bands</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Words cannot knit, or wailings make anew.<br> Seek not the sun in clouds when it is set.<br>On highest mountains, where those cedars grew,<br> Against whose banks the troubled ocean beat,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And were the marks to find thy hopëd port,<br> Into a soil far off themselves remove ;<br>On Sestos' shore, Leander's late resort,<br> Hero hath left no lamp to guide her love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou lookest for light in vain, and storms arise;<br> She sleeps thy death that erst thy danger sighed;<br>Strive then no more, bow down thy weary eyes,<br> Eyes which to all these woes thy heart have guided.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She is gone, she is lost, she is found, she is ever fair;<br> Sorrow draws weakly where love draws not too;<br>Woe's cries sound nothing, but only in love's ear.<br> Do then by dying what life cannot do.<br>Unfold thy flocks and leave them to the fields,<br> To feed on hills or dales, where likes them best,<br>Of what the summer or the springtime yields,<br> For love and time hath given thee leave to rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thy heart which was their fold, now in decay<br> By often storms and winter's many blasts,<br>All torn and rent becomes misfortune's prey;<br> False hope, my shepherd's staff, now age hath brast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My pipe, which love's own hand gave my desire<br> To sing her praises and my woe upon, <br>Despair hath often threatened to the fire,<br> As vain to keep now all the rest are gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus home I draw, as death's long night draws on;<br> Yet every foot, old thoughts turn back mine eyes;<br>Constraint me guides, as old age draws a stone<br> Against the hill, which over-weighty lies</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For feeble arms or wasted strength to move:<br> My steps are backward, gazing on my loss,<br>My mind's affection and my soul's sole love,<br> Not mixed with fancy's chaff or fortune's dross.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To God I leave it, who first gave it me,<br> And I her gave, and she returned again,<br>As it was hers; so let His mercies be<br> Of my last comforts the essential mean.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But be it so or not, the effects are past;<br>Her love hath end; my woe must ever last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Walter+Raleigh">Sir Walter Raleigh</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=519584" data-title="The Ocean To Cynthia de Sir Walter Raleigh" data-description="But stay, my thoughts, make end, give fortune way ;
 Harsh is the voice of woe and sorrow's sound ;
Complaints cure not, and tears do but allay
 Griefs for a time, which after more abound.

To seek for moisture in the Arabian sand
 Is but a loss o..."></div>
</div>
</div>