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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529430" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Wasted Illness</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through vaults of pain, <br>Enribbed and wrought with groins of ghastliness, <br>I passed, and garish spectres moved my brain <br> To dire distress. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And hammerings, <br>And quakes, and shoots, and stifling hotness, blent <br>With webby waxing things and waning things <br> As on I went. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> "Where lies the end <br>To this foul way?" I asked with weakening breath. <br>Thereon ahead I saw a door extend - <br> The door to death. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> It loomed more clear: <br>"At last!" I cried. "The all-delivering door!" <br>And then, I knew not how, it grew less near <br> Than theretofore. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And back slid I <br>Along the galleries by which I came, <br>And tediously the day returned, and sky, <br> And life--the same. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And all was well: <br>Old circumstance resumed its former show, <br>And on my head the dews of comfort fell <br> As ere my woe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I roam anew, <br>Scarce conscious of my late distress . . . And yet <br>Those backward steps through pain I cannot view <br> Without regret. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> For that dire train <br>Of waxing shapes and waning, passed before, <br>And those grim aisles, must be traversed again <br> To reach that door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Hardy">Thomas Hardy</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=529430" data-title="A Wasted Illness de Thomas Hardy" data-description="Through vaults of pain, Enribbed and wrought with groins of ghastliness, I passed, and garish spectres moved my brain To dire distress. And hammerings, And quakes, and shoots, and stifling hotness, blent ..."></div> </div> </div>
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