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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529691" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Telegram</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O He's suffering - maybe dying - and I not there to aid,<br>And smooth his bed and whisper to him! Can I nohow go?<br>Only the nurse's brief twelve words thus hurriedly conveyed,<br>As by stealth, to let me know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'He was the best and brightest! - candour shone upon his brow,<br>And I shall never meet again a soldier such as he,<br>And I loved him ere I knew it, and perhaps he's sinking now,<br>Far, far removed from me!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">- The yachts ride mute at anchor and the fulling moon is fair,<br>And the giddy folk are strutting up and down the smooth parade,<br>And in her wild distraction she seems not to be aware<br>That she lives no more a maid,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But has vowed and wived herself to one who blessed the ground she trod<br>To and from his scene of ministry, and thought her history known<br>In its last particular to him - aye, almost as to God,<br>And believed her quite his own.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>So great her absentmindedness she droops as in a swoon,<br>And a movement of aversion mars her recent spousal grace,<br>And in silence we two sit here in our waning honeymoon<br>At this idle watering-place….</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>What now I see before me is a long lane overhung<br>With lovelessness, and stretching from the present to the grave.<br>And I would I were away from this, with friends I knew when young,<br>Ere a woman held me slave.</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=529691" data-title="The Telegram de Thomas Hardy" data-description="'O He's suffering - maybe dying - and I not there to aid,
And smooth his bed and whisper to him! Can I nohow go?
Only the nurse's brief twelve words thus hurriedly conveyed,
As by stealth, to let me know.

'He was the best and brightest! - candour..."></div>
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