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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=117127" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Echoes</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=117127" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">LADY Clara Vere de Vere<br>Was eight years old, she said:<br>Every ringlet, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden thread.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=117127" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She took her little porringer:<br>Of me she shall not win renown:<br>For the baseness of its nature shall have strength to drag her down.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=117127" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Sisters and brothers, little Maid?<br>There stands the Inspector at thy door:<br>Like a dog, he hunts for boys who know not two and two are four."</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=117127" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"Kind words are more than coronets,"<br>She said, and wondering looked at me:<br>"It is the dead unhappy night, and I must hurry home to tea."</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=Lewis+Carroll">Lewis Carroll</a></strong> from <em><a href="http://sources.citatepedia.com/from.php?a=Lewis+Carroll&d=Phantasmagoria+and+Other+Poems">Phantasmagoria and Other Poems</a></em></div>

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