<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540212" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To A Sexton</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let thy wheel-barrow alone-- <br>Wherefore, Sexton, piling still <br>In thy bone-house bone on bone? <br>'Tis already like a hill <br>In a field of battle made, <br>Where three thousand skulls are laid; <br>These died in peace each with the other,-- <br>Father, sister, friend, and brother. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mark the spot to which I point! <br>From this platform, eight feet square, <br>Take not even a finger-joint: <br>Andrew's whole fire-side is there. <br>Here, alone, before thine eyes, <br>Simon's sickly daughter lies, <br>From weakness now, and pain defended, <br>Whom he twenty winters tended. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Look but at the gardener's pride-- <br>How he glories, when he sees <br>Roses, lilies, side by side, <br>Violets in families! <br>By the heart of Man, his tears, <br>By his hopes and by his fears, <br>Thou, too heedless, art the Warden <br>Of a far superior garden. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus then, each to other dear, <br>Let them all in quiet lie, <br>Andrew there, and Susan here, <br>Neighbours in mortality. <br>And, should I live through sun and rain <br>Seven widowed years without my Jane, <br>O Sexton, do not then remove her, <br>Let one grave hold the Loved and Lover!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Wordsworth">William Wordsworth</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=540212" data-title="To A Sexton de William Wordsworth" data-description="Let thy wheel-barrow alone-- Wherefore, Sexton, piling still In thy bone-house bone on bone? 'Tis already like a hill In a field of battle made, Where three thousand skulls are laid; These died in peace each with the other,-- Father, sister..."></div> </div> </div>

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