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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529707" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Workbox</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">See, here's the workbox, little wife,<br>That I made of polished oak.'<br>He was a joiner, of village life;<br>She came of borough folk.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He holds the present up to her<br>As with a smile she nears<br>And answers to the profferer,<br>''Twill last all my sewing years!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I warrant it will. And longer too.<br>'Tis a scantling that I got<br>Off poor John Wayward's coffin, who<br>Died of they knew not what.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The shingled pattern that seems to cease<br>Against your box's rim<br>Continues right on in the piece<br>That's underground with him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And while I worked it made me think<br>Of timber's varied doom;<br>One inch where people eat and drink,<br>The next inch in a tomb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But why do you look so white, my dear,<br>And turn aside your face?<br>You knew not that good lad, I fear,<br>Though he came from your native place?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'How could I know that good young man,<br>Though he came from my native town,<br>When he must have left there earlier than<br>I was a woman grown?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ah, no. I should have understood!<br>It shocked you that I gave<br>To you one end of a piece of wood<br>Whose other is in a grave?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Don't, dear, despise my intellect,<br>Mere accidental things<br>Of that sort never have effect<br>On my imaginings.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet still her lips were limp and wan,<br>Her face still held aside,<br>As if she had known not only John,<br>But known of what he died.</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=529707" data-title="The Workbox de Thomas Hardy" data-description="See, here's the workbox, little wife,
That I made of polished oak.'
He was a joiner, of village life;
She came of borough folk.

He holds the present up to her
As with a smile she nears
And answers to the profferer,
''Twill last all my sewing year..."></div>
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