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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529457" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At the War Office, London (Affixing the Lists of Killed and Wounded: December, 1899)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Last year I called this world of gain-givings <br>The darkest thinkable, and questioned sadly <br>If my own land could heave its pulse less gladly, <br>So charged it seemed with circumstance whence springs <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The tragedy of things. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">II </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet at that censured time no heart was rent <br>Or feature blanched of parent, wife, or daughter <br>By hourly blazoned sheets of listed slaughter; <br>Death waited Nature's wont; Peace smiled unshent <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;From Ind to Occident.</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>
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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=529457" data-title="At the War Office, London (Affixing the Lists of Killed and Wounded: December, 1899) de Thomas Hardy" data-description="I 

Last year I called this world of gain-givings 
The darkest thinkable, and questioned sadly 
If my own land could heave its pulse less gladly, 
So charged it seemed with circumstance whence springs 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The tragedy of things. 

II..."></div>
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