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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=115824" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>IV. The Dead</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=115824" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,<br> Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.<br>The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,<br> And sunset, and the colours of the earth.<br>These had seen movement, and heard music; known<br> Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;<br>Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;<br> Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=115824" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter<br>And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,<br> Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance<br>And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white<br> Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,<br>A width, a shining peace, under the night.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Rupert+Brooke">Rupert Brooke</a></strong></div>

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