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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529470" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>De Profundis</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I </div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Percussus sum sicut foenum, et aruit cor meum." <br>- Ps. ci </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wintertime nighs; <br>But my bereavement-pain <br>It cannot bring again: <br> Twice no one dies. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Flower-petals flee; <br>But, since it once hath been, <br>No more that severing scene <br> Can harrow me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Birds faint in dread: <br>I shall not lose old strength <br>In the lone frost's black length: <br> Strength long since fled! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Leaves freeze to dun; <br>But friends can not turn cold <br>This season as of old <br> For him with none. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Tempests may scath; <br>But love can not make smart <br>Again this year his heart <br> Who no heart hath. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Black is night's cope; <br>But death will not appal <br>One who, past doubtings all, <br> Waits in unhope. <br>De Profundis </div><div style="margin:10px 0">II </div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Considerabam ad dexteram, et videbam; et non erat qui cognosceret me </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the clouds' swoln bosoms echo back the shouts of the many and <br>strong <br>That things are all as they best may be, save a few to be right ere <br>long, <br>And my eyes have not the vision in them to discern what to these is <br>so clear, <br>The blot seems straightway in me alone; one better he were not here. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The stout upstanders say, All's well with us: ruers have nought to <br>rue! <br>And what the potent say so oft, can it fail to be somewhat true? <br>Breezily go they, breezily come; their dust smokes around their <br>career, <br>Till I think I am one horn out of due time, who has no calling here. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Their dawns bring lusty joys, it seems; their eves exultance sweet; <br>Our times are blessed times, they cry: Life shapes it as is most <br>meet, <br>And nothing is much the matter; there are many smiles to a tear; <br>Then what is the matter is I, I say. Why should such an one be here? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let him to whose ears the low-voiced Best seems stilled by the clash <br>of the First, <br>Who holds that if way to the Better there be, it exacts a full look <br>at the Worst, <br>Who feels that delight is a delicate growth cramped by crookedness, <br>custom, and fear, <br>Get him up and be gone as one shaped awry; he disturbs the order <br>here. <br>De Profundis </div><div style="margin:10px 0">III </div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Heu mihi, quia incolatus meus prolongatus est! Habitavi cum <br>habitantibus Cedar; multum incola fuit aninia mea."--Ps. cxix. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There have been times when I well might have passed and the ending <br>have come - <br>Points in my path when the dark might have stolen on me, artless, <br>unrueing - <br>Ere I had learnt that the world was a welter of futile doing: <br>Such had been times when I well might have passed, and the ending <br>have come! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Say, on the noon when the half-sunny hours told that April was nigh, <br>And I upgathered and cast forth the snow from the crocus-border, <br>Fashioned and furbished the soil into a summer-seeming order, <br>Glowing in gladsome faith that I quickened the year thereby. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or on that loneliest of eves when afar and benighted we stood, <br>She who upheld me and I, in the midmost of Egdon together, <br>Confident I in her watching and ward through the blackening heather, <br>Deeming her matchless in might and with measureless scope endued. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or on that winter-wild night when, reclined by the chimney-nook <br>quoin, <br>Slowly a drowse overgat me, the smallest and feeblest of folk there, <br>Weak from my baptism of pain; when at times and anon I awoke there - <br>Heard of a world wheeling on, with no listing or longing to join. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even then! while unweeting that vision could vex or that knowledge <br>could numb, <br>That sweets to the mouth in the belly are bitter, and tart, and <br>untoward, <br>Then, on some dim-coloured scene should my briefly raised curtain <br>have lowered, <br>Then might the Voice that is law have said "Cease!" and the ending <br>have come.</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=529470" data-title="De Profundis de Thomas Hardy" data-description="I "Percussus sum sicut foenum, et aruit cor meum." - Ps. ci Wintertime nighs; But my bereavement-pain It cannot bring again: Twice no one dies. Flower-petals flee; But, sin..."></div> </div> </div>
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