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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529972" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In the Morning of Life</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown, <br>And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin, <br>When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own, <br>And the light that surrounds us is all from within; <br>Oh 'tis not, believe me, in that happy time <br>We can love, as in hours of less transport we may; -- <br>Of our smiles, of our hopes, 'tis the gay sunny prime, <br>But affection is truest when these fade away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When we see the first glory of youth pass us by, <br>Like a leaf on the stream that will never return, <br>When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so high, <br>First tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn; <br>Then, then in the time when affection holds sway <br>With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew; <br>Love, nursed among pleasures, is faithless as they, <br>But the love born of Sorrow, like Sorrow, is true. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In climes full of sunshine, though splendid the flowers, <br>Their sighs have no freshness, their odour no worth; <br>'Tis the cloud and the mist of our own Isle of showers <br>That call the rich spirit of fragrancy forth. <br>So it is not 'mid splendour, prosperity, mirth, <br>That the depth of Love's generous spirit appears; <br>To the sunshine of smiles it may first owe its birth, <br>But the soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Moore">Thomas Moore</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=529972" data-title="In the Morning of Life de Thomas Moore" data-description="In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown, 
And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin, 
When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own, 
And the light that surrounds us is all from within; 
Oh 'tis not, believe me, in that happy ..."></div>
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