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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538818" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hope Dieth: Hope Liveth</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strong are thine arms, O love, & strong<br>Thine heart to live, and love, and long;<br>But thou art wed to grief and wrong:<br>Live, then, and long, though hope be dead!<br>Live on, & labour thro’ the years!<br>Make pictures through the mist of tears,<br>Of unforgotten happy fears,<br>That crossed the time ere hope was dead.<br>Draw near the place where once we stood<br>Amid delight’s swift-rushing flood,<br>And we and all the world seemed good<br>Nor needed hope now cold and dead.<br>Dream in the dawn I come to thee<br>Weeping for things that may not be!<br>Dream that thou layest lips on me!<br>Wake, wake to clasp hope’s body dead!<br>Count o’er and o’er, and one by one<br>The minutes of the happy sun<br>That while agone on kissed lips shone,<br>Count on, rest not, for hope is dead.<br>Weep, though no hair’s breadth thou shalt move<br>The living Earth, the heaven above<br>By all the bitterness of love!<br>Weep and cease not, now hope is dead!<br>Sighs rest thee not, tears bring no ease,<br>Life hath no joy, and Death no peace:<br>The years change not, though they decrease,<br>For hope is dead, for hope is dead.<br>Speak, love, I listen: far away<br>I bless the tremulous lips, that say,<br>“Mock not the afternoon of day,<br>Mock not the tide when hope is dead!”<br>I bless thee, O my love, who say’st:<br>“Mock not the thistle-cumbered waste;<br>I hold Love’s hand, and make no haste<br>Down the long way, now hope is dead.<br>With other names do we name pain,<br>The long years wear our hearts in vain.<br>Mock not our loss grown into gain,<br>Mock not our lost hope lying dead.<br>Our eyes gaze for no morning-star,<br>No glimmer of the dawn afar;<br>Full silent wayfarers we are<br>Since ere the noon-tide hope lay dead.<br>Behold with lack of happiness<br>The master, Love, our hearts did bless<br>Lest we should think of him the less:<br>Love dieth not, though hope is dead!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Morris">William Morris</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=538818" data-title="Hope Dieth: Hope Liveth de William Morris" data-description="Strong are thine arms, O love, & strong
Thine heart to live, and love, and long;
But thou art wed to grief and wrong:
Live, then, and long, though hope be dead!
Live on, & labour thro’ the years!
Make pictures through the mist of tears,
Of unfor..."></div>
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