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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536372" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Unwritten Tragedy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ho, ye that thirst beside the running stream!<br>Love is a running stream, whose waters flow<br>Upon the earth, and who would drink thereof<br>Must bend him earthwards. There was such an one<br>Who lay upon his belly in the mire<br>And was not ashamed. Because he deemed it well<br>That love, which is the strength of weaker things,<br>Should make of Man a child. And, while he lay<br>And summer winds were drowsing in his ears,<br>The river of his love went rippling by.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thus he lived, and thus he might have died,<br>Deaf to his fellows' scorn, and held it gain<br>To lie a living corse unburied there<br>Among the reeds of Time and hidden in<br>From the world's stare. But Fate was watching him<br>With envious eyes; and he had merited<br>In truth much retribution at her hand.<br>--Alas that I should have such spite to tell!<br>She took her vengeance at the fountain head,<br>And made a desolation in the land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And how he dreamed and half outwitted Fate,<br>Because his mind was single in his love;<br>And how she took the pitiless winds in pay<br>And set a wrack of clouds upon their back;<br>And how, because she could not master him,<br>She turned the waters of his love away;<br>And how that man arose up from his lair,<br>Foul with the ooze and with a beard grown grey<br>Through his long shame; and how he turned and fled<br>From the sun's face to dwell among the tombs,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would relate. And, if in simple words<br>How some have learned the nakedness of truth,<br>The carelessness of God, Man's cruelty<br>And their own folly, it would be a tale<br>To chill the lust of Youth and bend the knees<br>Of Manhood's pride before the strength of Fate<br>Which conquers all;--And this I think would be<br>The sum of human tragedy on Earth.<br>--But who am I to stay the wings of Death<br>And pluck a feather out and write such things?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</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=536372" data-title="An Unwritten Tragedy de Wilfrid Scawen Blunt" data-description="Ho, ye that thirst beside the running stream!
Love is a running stream, whose waters flow
Upon the earth, and who would drink thereof
Must bend him earthwards. There was such an one
Who lay upon his belly in the mire
And was not ashamed. Because h..."></div>
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